Weekend Note / 02.

Weekend notes are short-form POVs.

I visited the Met this summer with my six-year-old niece, who, on a ninety degree day, insisted on walking the fifteen blocks from the subway, skipping all the way. "Did you know," I said to her, "that people from all over the world travel to New York City to visit places like the Met? We're so lucky that we have the opportunity to go whenever we want to, even on a weekday afternoon." She held her pink metal water bottle with the tip of one finger, studying my face with serious eyes. After a moment's silence, she said: "Are you a grown-up? Or are you a kid?" Before I could answer, she was on to the next subject, chattering about zoo animals, and Central Park, and the various shades of purple she'd use to paint her new bedroom.  

Later, at the museum, she asked about mummies, medieval tapestries, armor: "how old are they?"

"Very old. So much older than you can imagine," I said.

"Older than you?" 

"Yes." 

I remember reading that Bjork once described herself as "half child, half ancient." I love that. I feel that way, too, sometimes. "I'm 29!" I said to my mom on the phone recently, dismayed. "You're only 29," she replied.

Back at the Met, my niece pointed at a gold and silver sword. "How old is that?" 

I looked at the placard. "It's about two hundred years old," I said. 

"Only two hundred years?"

I smiled. Nodded. "Yes, only."

Photo via my Instagram.