On her annual visit, the doctor told Meera how much she had grown over the last year. That night Meera comes to me, her shoulders are hunched and a concerned look on her face.
Pappa, I know I am growing, but I have not seen myself growing.
I am stumped, but I manage. Hmmm, Meera, its because you are growing very slowly. So you cannot see your self grow.
She was certainly not listening and had her own reasons.
Pappa, I don’t see myself growing, because I am NOT growing during the day.
Pappa, I think I am growing only at night, and emphatically, when I am asleep!
That’s all right Meera, I was also growing at night.
Dejected, she flicks her tiny hands down, but Pappa, if I am growing when I am asleep, I can’t see myself grow! … and starts to cry.
Awww. I cuddle her and tell her it’s OK.
She’s obviously not done. We talk about her “growing” issues on the way to school. She shows me the palms of her tiny gloved hands. Light pink with beige stripes, soiled finger tips.
Pappa, My hands, are not growing, only my feet are growing.
As I blink and trying to form words, Meera continues, I am wearing the same gloves from last year, but you had to buy new shoes for me! See only my feet are growing, my hands are not growing.
I hold and kiss her tiny hands, then point her to the birds chirping in the trees. I tell friends, Meera is five, going on 15! Wouldn’t you agree?