"How old are you?" The short haired curious eyed person whose voice sounded like the bassy chords of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah, deep gutural sweetness pouring through and through.
The little girl, pig tailed with deep flush of tanned skin, a hot pink hearing aid tucked close to her ear like a seashell picked up at the beach, that decided to stay on and bring the blasting woosh of the world closer to the perception of this tender soul. She stood on her tiny sneakered tip-toes- waxing and waning as the curled spume of the ocean waves. An old jew in prayer, a rainstick shaking by a gentle inner pull.
"Sit your butt down, now!"said the littles ones mother, a gruff woman, wearing a loping hoodie that slid down her curvy body as snow melt does down the mountainside on a sunny day. She was pierced and tattoed by the intimate choices of her life and encircled by prayer beads. She handled the little one roughly, when the little one moved, spoke or did anything other than sit still and silent.
"Eternity, how old are you?" The person, with the coffee ground Cohen voice crooned.
I heard the off kilter sound that arises from an old soul in a little body, not in protest or spite, to their unruly and uncooth caretakers... rather in a still peace-able, holy known to themselves way.
" I am as old as age, as time, as light, lightening and thunder, as love itself, I am eternal."
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