Watching Me

 From time to time, when I was little, and short, my big sister, Maureen, was in charge of “watching me.”  This meant that she could not be with her friends, or do what she wanted.  Little brothers can be burdens.  It was summer.  I remember that because Maureen was out of school and I was too young for school.  We were walking about on a hot day and came to a Bronx water fountain.  I was thirsty but too short to reach in and get a drink.  Maureen tried to lift me but no leverage.  She looked around, I thought for some help?  Then she said, “Wait here,” in her big sister voice.  She walked away.  Now I felt thirsty and abandoned in the Bronx.  Moments later, Maureen came back carrying a little stool, like one might squat on.  She placed it at the fountain and helped me to stand on it so now I was high enough to get my drink of water.  Where did that stool come from is not the question and was never answered.  Rather, I ask myself, am I as kind now as Maureen was then?  I wonder if her two girls Trisha and Kathy are as kind as their Mom?