You never know how truly short life is until a 19-year-old girl, who is preceptive and sweet, and of exceptional intellect, a girl who made the university president’s list, stares at you sincerely, with warmth in her eyes, and with all her heart, calls you an “old person.”
“I’m not old,” you almost reply.
But she is 19, and she would not believe you. Because to this young woman, the definition of “ancient” is any person or object old enough to predate the iPhone 3G.
Today, we went to the Tennessee Aquarium together. Three of us walked through the exhibit; the 19-year-old, my wife and my wife’s elderly husband who carried everyone’s purses.
And I watched the 19-year-old, who was genuinely impressed by the gargantuas and leviathans in the water.
We were in a room of glass. Eight hundred species swam over our heads, and another few thousand below us.
Kids were running around everywhere. Parents were pushing strollers. Babies crying. It was your typical tourist attraction.
But I was busy watching the 19-year-old, walking with ease through the aquarium passageways. She admired the tropical fish, she posed for pictures on giant fiberglass turtle eggs, she fearlessly shoved her hand into the water to pet the stingrays.
You would have never known that this girl has spent most of last year in the hospital, in critical care.
You would never look at this red-haired marvel and notice that she is paralyzed on her left side. Not unless you saw her clutching my arm as we used the escalator. You would never know this girl is on a TPN feeding tube, which is a form of life support.
You would only see a brilliant young woman, living her life. Living this life so fully, so everlastingly, that it almost makes you feel ashamed of yourself.
For she knows how to live with a whole heart. She knows how to find rapture in a single sip of coffee, or one taste of ice cream. She knows how to extract each crumb of joy from a simple game of Uno.
She knows things. Things I’ll never know.
I watch her walk the hallways of this public space. She carries knowledge of the nature of life which sets her apart from the rest of us. She has seen The End. She has lived to tell. This young woman makes me proud although I am not her blood kin.
She is beautiful, no bigger than a bird, walking along the aquariums hallways. Long strawberry hair, trailing behind her. A miracle of the truest incarnation.
The girl points at the aged sea turtle, with barnacles on his shell.
She smiles at me and says earnestly, “I wonder if that turtle is older than you?”
You have to worry about America’s youth.
Questions: SeanDietrich@gmail.co
Visit the Sean of the South Website
Find out where you can see Sean live.
Originally published on Sean’s website. Republished here with permission.
If you enjoyed this article, then please REPOST or SHARE with others; encourage them to follow AFNN. If you’d like to become a citizen contributor for AFNN, contact us at managingeditor@afnn.us Help keep us ad-free by donating here.
Substack: American Free News Network Substack
Truth Social: @AFNN_USA
Facebook: https://m.facebook.com/afnnusa
Telegram: https://t.me/joinchat/2_-GAzcXmIRjODNh
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AfnnUsa
GETTR: https://gettr.com/user/AFNN_USA
CloutHub: @AFNN_USA