Innocence Abroad
At the hotel check-in counter in Lucerne,
a travel weary American family of four,
on summer break,
had just walked across the
Reuss River
on the world’s oldest surviving truss bridge.
They’d also viewed the incredible
Dying Lion stone carving,
a tribute to immense bravery.
“Your passports, please,”
the natty clerk said in impeccable English.
Tobi Anne, eleven then,
a blond braid engineered
by her mother’s nimble fingers
hanging mid-way down her back,
asked,
innocent as pie,
“Why do you need our passports?”
“Because,” he replied,
“Some people pretend
to be someone they’re
not.”
“Oh,” daughter mine said,
a coy grin tugging at her lips,
“Who are we going to be tonight, Dad?
. . . j
from the Wonderments and Such collection
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