Fish In A Tree

by Lynda Mullaly Hunt

I look down at my Mercury dime and its date, wishing people could last as long as coins.

I believe that the things we put numbers on are not necessarily the things that count the most. You can’t measure the stuff that makes us human.

And most days, I won’t tell you what to write about. You may write about your life, sports, the country of Bulgaria, your favorite kind of soap, books you like, books you don’t like. Anything.”

“You know,” he says, “logically, if a person was to pull another down, it would mean that he or she is already below that person.”

“It is illogical to say he is a misfit just because he chooses to ride a different animal, provided he can carry out his cowboy duties.”

“I have a question,” Albert says after licking the milk from his lips. “If you spell ‘cow’ inside a cupcake, can a vegetarian eat it?”

My grandpa used to say to be careful with eggs and words,

because neither can ever be fixed. The older I get, the more I realize how smart my grandpa was.