Discoveries Poem by anais vionet

On a recent Saturday morning, I was blue-collar grinding (volunteering at a local hospital) , when one of the doctors I've wo-manually labored for stopped by briefly to check on a patient. She had her young daughter, Ivy, in tow. I'd met little Ivy before. The doctor asked me, "Would you mind keeping an eye on Ivy for a minute? " "Sure! " I committed, bending down to get eye-to-eye with the girl and engage.

Ivy's an adorable little human. She's a sober 4 year old, about three and a half feet tall, with wavy chestnut brown hair down to her waist. She was wearing a yellow, "Beauty and the Beast" dress. Ivy's into all things Disney (who the shiar isn't?) . Disney seems to home right in on impressionable young minds like hers and mine.

Ivy asked me, "If you could have a wish, what animal would you be? "
I believe we should talk to children as if they were adults - my parents were like that with me - which partially consists of complicating basic ideas and observing where the kids go with it.
"Where would I BE, as this animal? " I asked, after all, it was an important consideration.
"What do you mean? " she asked, puzzled but genuinely interested.
"Well, I wouldn't want to suddenly become an elephant here in the hospital - would I - or a bear in the middle of the ocean? "

"NNoooo, " she said, so scandalized that she took my hand to reassure me.
"I'd probably want to be an alpha predator too, " I was thinking out loud now, "you know - no use becoming an animal only to get eaten." She nodded, scouring me with her wide, unblinking, brown eyes and I finished with, "since humans are the #1 alpha predator, I suppose I'd like to be.. me."

"NNooo, " she said, sternly. Her body language radiated impatience. She'd decided that I hadn't understood the question - or I didn't appreciate the magic possibilities of transformation.

Her mom returned, just then, and after touching base with the duty nurse, she turned to Ivy and me, "Ready to go? " she asked. Ivy immediately changed allegiance by releasing my hand and taking hers.

Doctor-mom thanked me and as they walked away, Ivy gave me a bashful, half hearted, goodbye wave.

I've discovered that if I do my volunteer work early on weekend mornings, from 6 to 10am, it's almost like it never happened at all. Afterwards, I'm not tired and I have the rest of my day free. I had to give up something, of course - my early, weekend, antisocial coffee consumption and writing time.

Coffee shops are my favorite places to write but few of them are open at sunrise. I'd found one that I liked close to my dorm. The most direct route is to walk through an old cemetery. At sunrise it can be dark, foggy and dew soaked - a scene right out of "Night of the living Dead" - creepy-ish, but I'd take the shortcut every time.
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Slang…
shiar = the mother of all curse words