The Tall Tale and Wee Child

My child’s serious eyes targeted me as his prize. I could see pondering and wondering forming words for my small child’s mumbling. “Mommy, Daddy says you’re short”, he spoke. “People come in all sizes.” “Will I come in short?” he questioned. “Would you care?” “Don’t think so,” he shared. “Good, since I’m only a short woman because I was born a short man. When a young man, I despised being short. I was a shy sort, wanting a growth spurt never to come. One day, when alone and apart, I sat with my hurt on isolated railroad tracks. Deep in day dreams, wiggling my toes in pebbly dirt, I nearly missed the train’s loud arrival which risked my survival. Suddenly upon me, the train was deafening and looming, so my feet took to zooming. I barely missed fatal harm, but that train battered my left arm. My elbow now pointed up towards my face, angry and gangly. I don’t know why, I may never know, but I kissed that torn elbow and instantly changed into a girl who didn’t care to grow.” “Did your Mommy buy you new clothes?” ... CayCay Jennings July 3, 2016