Georgia America

As I walk to the edge of the pool, I discover that I will probably have to walk down the steps instead of diving in. Too many people with the same idea and it's crowded! Little kids with plastic floats strapped to their arms look up from the shallow steps and clear a path as I enter. I have to stop as a squealing sunburn victim splashes right in front of me, dog paddling like a fifty pound poodle. A very tan lady looks over the top of her sunglasses at me, she lets me know she is watching and the poodle belongs to her. I move even slower.
The water feels great and I ease down toward the deep end. I map out a path and breaststroke through the crowd of coconut flavored vacationers. When I reach the bouyed rope that seperates the swimmers from the sinkers, I latch on. After dunking my blistered head I shift around and sit on the rope. The rope begins to sway and as I reach for a firmer grip, a little boy of six or seven materializes beside me. No float or swimmies, just a firm grip on the cable.
"I'm sorry" I offer, "did I knock you off?"
"Yeah" the boy said, "but it's ok, I have fifteen lives. It's her you need to worry about, she only has one."
He points to another very tan, visor wearing lady that has to be his grandmother. She doesn't look up.
All I could really think to say was "cool", but that was enough and he took it from there.
PJ finally pried us apart after an hour or so, but I had a new friend. The only real pertinent information I got from him was that he had enjoyed his seventh birthday at the beach and he was from Georgia America. He was funny. He told me several things that I feel sure were family secrets, or at a minimum, family embarrassments. But he really just seemed to enjoy having a conversation with somebody that would listen, ask questions and take him seriously. An "adult" discussion.
I saw him several times during my vacation and his grandmother ended up being nice too. I guess everybody is a little more wary of strangers than they were when I was a kid, and after watching the news, why not. When I was little I always tried to talk to adults. Some would talk to me and others would not. It was a number's game for me, but I remember the feeling of confidence I got when they would. I felt important, accepted.
But isn't "remembering" the key? People tell me that I'm a kid magnet because we are (and I quote) "about the same age", but that's not it. I'm fully cooked, I just remember being a little kid. A little kid, a big kid and now an adult. There is really not much difference in the three. At all stages I wanted to be looked at, heard and treated with respect. To laugh, love and play. To not be written off when I do or say something stupid. To enjoy the things we all have in common; two Georgia Americans.