The Thing I Was Trying to Tell You

Take any three things, she said, beginning to draw a triangle in the air. One, a man lying alone in a field. Two, a dog hit by a car….

She went still for a moment, the third side of her shape undone.

Yes? he answered.

I don’t know, she said. A bicycle dropped from a rooftop?

Ok, he said. Yes, that’s three things.

Yes. She stuck a finger in the corner of her eye. Take any of those three things and consider them. Then, think of them as seen by a child, a small girl or small boy.

Oh, he said, ok. How small? he said. Five? He put out five fingers.

She shook her head, her gold earrings waving. No, not five. Three.

Ah, he said. Really small then.

Yes. Very young. So young, they’re hardly even lingual yet.

The clock swung its hand around, a black arc on the kitchen wall. The winter’s day drew very little light.

So, he said. Think of that little girl or boy, seeing one of those things?

She nodded. Yes. Can you? She peered at him closely. Can you think of that? Can you imagine that small child seeing one of those things?

I think so, he said. Probably?

Try, she said. Try very hard to see that child seeing one of those things. In that way, you’ll see what I’ve been trying to tell you.