Building castles

Caroline crashed her bike this weekend resulting in a skinned knee.

So we went to the pharmacy to buy large band-aids where a woman checking out seemed to think it was an appropriate time to go through every single coupon in the coupon flyer while holding up the line behind her. The girls used this as an opportunity to point out all the fudge and candy that stores always place at child eye-level in the check-out line so that parents will be forced to buy candy in order to avert an embarrassing tantrum. 


This whole predicament caught the attention of an elderly gentleman in front of us who thoughtfully offered me his place in line.


"I know kids," he said. "I got five of 'em. And they all went to college, too."


"You must be very proud of them."


"I wouldn't be telling you about them if I wasn't proud! Education. If you give your kids an education you've done okay."


The woman was still looking through the coupon flyer. 


And that's when the man said this:
"You know, I'm seventy-seven years old. At the end of your life it's the kids that matter. You could build castles. Castles. And it won't mean anything. But if you've got kids. That's something."
He smiled a broad smile and the light caught the edge of his thick glasses.


The coupon woman bought her coupon goods and I bought the band-aids. We got home and I put the Neosporin and the band-aids on Caroline's knee.

A few days later Caroline's knee is starting to heal and I'm thinking that when I'm seventy-seven I could probably build a castle out of discarded band-aids.