Pacemaker Kid

Greetings,

You are on the green metro sitting across from a young boy, maybe 10, his mother and father. His father's hands are hard calloused. They are simple working people from outside the city. The boy smiles. He is fascinated by the whirling prisms of light and color flashing past the window.

During the ride, his father reaches over and pulls up the boy's shirt.

On his little chest are two plastic suction cups and a small machine the size of a deck of cards. It is a heart monitor. It is measuring his beats, his life rhythm, his regularity. His father checks the display, sees the cups are secure and drops the shirt.

"It is a machine for my son. It helps him," said the man looking at me with tired eyes. "We got it at Hospital A, where the doctors said it was essential for his life."

After the shirt covers his chest the boy and I see each other. We smile, we cup our hands around our eyes and scan the big world like explorers using magnifying glasses.

He is a happy kid. He isn't afraid of a thing. We should all be so fortunate.
Especially all the "tired" adults streaming their life tales, "Oh pity me, I am so, so tired."

Talk to the kid. He'll tell you how "tired" really feels.

Peace.