Where'd It Go?

My daughter's next door neighbor is where this story begins. He grows elephant ears that are so enormous and grand they appear animated, like characters from the film Jumanji. Sweet girl that she is, my daughter understood how badly I wanted one of these to take home to play with. She knocked on his door, he grabbed his clippers, and, voila.

I filled the bath with about three inches of water and the leaf filled up the tub completely. Its wide edges curled up against the tub like arms. For about two weeks I kept the giant specimen floating in my bathtub.

At one point, my three year old friend, the divine sublime Mizz H, came to visit and and I showed her the elephant leaf with its stalky ridges and spine. We looked and looked. The feeling of awe seemed palpable but not entirely surprising. After all, the leaf appeared continually magical to my jaded eyes so one can only imagine the whooshy whoosh felt by a preschooler.

Anyway, when Mizz H returned to visit weeks later, she walked into the bathroom and leaned over the tub. Where's the leaf? Where'd the leaf go?

Her question reminded me of what my mind had already forgotten. To me the leaf was gone, but to her it lived on in that very spot.