Perceptions

“I used to be tall.”

Colby snickered. Behind his hand, he whispered to his little brother, “I’m sure.”

“Yep, before I became the gnarled little garden gnome you see before you, I was tall.”

The hunched little old lady watched and smiled as the two children ran around her in circles, singing, “Little garden gnome. Little garden gnome,” and laughing.

“I thought you would like that,” she told them once they calmed down. “How ‘bout we make the cookies now?” she asked.

“Yes!”

“Yes, please!”

They two took her hands and dragged her into the kitchen. She loved having her great grandchildren over, but it was taxing, and it was the one time she thought about her diminishing height. When she was alone, she just didn’t use the things on the top shelves, but little ones wanted cookies, and her daughter had put the sugar in the topmost cabinet.

Colby saw her worried expression and quickly offered to get a chair and reach the sugar for her. “Okay,” she agreed, “but you be careful up there.” Colby scooted a chair over and nimbly climbed aboard. He had the sugar down within seconds.

“Back in the day I would have been able to reach that myself. And do you know I used to think five feet was short?”

“You were a whole five feet, Grammy?” the youngest boy asked.

“Yes, Tommy, I surly was,” she replied. 

“WOW!” both boys exclaimed. “You really were tall.”