In comes the wee boy, sisters in tow, to show the one a picture on offer at our annual yard sale he thinks she must have – it is made in his eyes just for her – puppies – of course she must have it and does.
Then his eyes cast about and land upon ‘it’ – that perfect thing that must be had – a rich creamy brown soft-sided suitcase – mid-size – just right for him at his size. He lifts and hefts. He walks around it, eyeing its dimensions. He lays it on its side, zips it open, inspects the interior, rezips, puts it back up and hefts some more, by his actions pronouncing it good.
And then he looks that look – the impossible-to-say-no-to look little boys know so well. But Grandma and Grandpa aren’t having it. There is no whining – only persistent desire, which melts an unintended target and Laura leans around behind me and slips the necessary $2 into Noah’s hand which he then gives her back – transaction complete, grandparents sigh and smile and take them away.
We watch as they stand outside, Noah with his new rich creamy brown soft-sided suitcase that comes to his waist. He hefts it with his right hand, then switches to his left. He walks around it, inspecting it now with the certitude of the new proud owner. He gestures and comments words we cannot hear, showing his family what a good buy it surely was.
Sometimes a suitcase is just what a boy needs and sometimes it takes someone else’s grandma to know it.