The Minnesota Farm Woman

I was going to give this photograph of my five year old grandson a title. Something like “Reflections” would be nice. A photograph of a soon-to-be kindergartner flat on his belly at the end of the dock, looking into the water. His face reflects his curiosity at the different types of fish that he sees, and he wonders if the water there is over his head. A few minutes later, he is scooting with his mother over a dead cedar tree overhanging the shallows. He has a natural grace and a lack of fear over what lies below. That’s all right. Grandma had enough fear for everyone, and waited for the inevitable splashes as they both fell in, but it never happened. With every step we took along the lakeshore, he had a question about why things happen and how they work. Kindergarten is starting in a few short weeks, and he is ready. More than ready, I think, because he is eager and excited. I remember as clearly as if it were yesterday when his mother , eager to start her first day of kindergarten, turned to wave as she stepped through the door to her classroom. I wish I would have had a picture of that moment, even though it is forever etched in my mind. Luckily, I have this precious photograph to keep, plus the rest of the story that goes along with it: Max’s dad taught him that spitting into the water will attract the fish and bring them closer to the surface, so he was hanging over the edge of the dock and spitting. A lot. Five year olds are curious and silly and smart and they like to spit, especially if they have permission to do so. I hope, as this boy steps through the door to his classroom and the many classrooms to follow, that he keeps his curiosity, his sense of wonder at the world, his eagerness to learn, and most of all, I hope he doesn’t spit in public.