Chapter 3: Losing Time

My niece is a riot. A radiant, rascal, rambunctious four year old riot.
And she asks tough questions. Tough, troubling, tingling questions. The kind of questions a spunky four year old would ask.
So when she stared deep into my eyes and asked 'what is your favorite thing that you ever lost?' I could only give her my most sincere and deepest answer: 'Time. My favorite thing I ever lost is TIME.' Boom. Bam. Bingo. Don't we all wish we had just a little more... time?
Personally, I would have given myself a ten for that answer. An eleven. A twelve. A trophy. A Nobel prize. But this four year old riot had other plans: she frowned, rolled her eyes, and stared deeper into my eyes when she repeated: 'NO. I said THING. What is your favorite THING that you ever lost?' And my zen moment of enlightenment went to shit. Went. Withered. Wallowed. I had to stumble on an answer that would satisfy the little rascal's need. She's a material girl this one, living in a material world, and how dare I stoop down to the level of philosophy or dare I say Buddhism with this future influencer?!? Or future rocket scientist. Or future president. The future is grand for this materialista.
So I smiled back at that little devilista materiallista and talked about some made up music box that barely played music anymore but had a ballerina who twirled around even in silence. If only I could have had that music box back in my life... but alas. It's gone. Gleaned. Grifted. Truthfully, it never existed, but when a four year old riot stares into your eyes - you do what she says. You do what she says. ​