Some of my most wonderful memories are of kids (now grown) who frequented my garden where we use to live. (Only 7 miles away from our current home.)
First brought to visit by his sister when he was only a few months old, Timothy visited on his own just about as soon as he could walk. One of the 3 rules we had for him was that he had to have permission from us to come on our property. The way Timothy handled that rule put many a smile on our faces over the years.
One day I ran outside for a few minutes to look at various things and record a few notes into a tape recorder. My thoughts were interrupted by a little voice calling out to me, “Theresa, can I come over?” Timothy, then about 5, was squatting down by the side of the road right by our driveway. As he waited for my answer he ran his hands up and down the driveway reflector (or marker) that was beside him.
“You can’t come over today, Timothy,” I said — thinking to go immediately back to what I was doing without further conversation.
“What are you doing?” was his reply. And on and on it went. Just because he couldn’t come into the yard —— no one had said anything about not being able to carry on a conversation from the property line.
Finally, when it looked as if he had depleted his supply of questions, he said “I know what this is Theresa,” as he still grasped the reflector by the driveway entrance.
“You do?” I said.
“Yes. It’s to tell you where your drive way is.” After a pause, he continued, “We don’t have one of these.”
“You don’t?” I replied.
Very matter-of-factly he responded, “No. We already know where our driveway is.”