This incident reminded me of days long since past. When I was a little boy, my grandparents lived on a big acreage that had a wooded area with a creek that ran through it, so it was always a magnet for deer, squirrels, and a few animals that I still have no idea what they were called. My grandpa used to sit at a picnic table in the backyard and read the newspaper while watching wild life. He spent many evenings back there while he was still in good health.
When he got sick toward the end of his life, he often sat on the front porch instead. He still got to see squirrels chasing each other around the yard and up one of the five trees in the front yard. He'd laugh and point and tell his grandchildren to watch certain squirrels because of their unique characteristics. Some might have a funny looking tail, some were different colors, some were skinny, and some were fat, but all of them were playful. I can't help but wonder if their friskiness didn't remind my grandpa of the days when he used to putter around in his workshop without any physical ailments.
The older I get, the more I understand what it feels like to desire the exuberance of youth while at the same time knowing my body doesn't care about what my heart desires. And the older I get, the more I hope that I'll become like my grandpa—someone who finds joy in the small things of life even when I can no longer physically chase after them myself.
