Metaphor

The world can be a confusing and scary place through the eyes of a six-year-old. Sarah Jane is the youngest of our DeGraffenried clan and she, like most kids her age, is easily laden with metaphoric concepts. One Sunday after noon she was sitting on my dad's lap during church. Her arms were folded, and she was listening with unusual intensity to the speaker. This particular story the speaker was telling happened to be centered around a man who went into a series of massive seizures and ended up in a coma. Three weeks later after the seizures, the man's parents were told by the doctor that their son was a vegetable; they would either have to pull the plug on their son or risk months and years of financial expense due to the extended time spent in the hospital. Looking at my youngest sister a few minutes after the story was finished, my dad noticed that she had a particularly confused look on her face. As the meeting wore on, fat pools of moisture were gathering in Sarah's big, blue eyes and her hands were out, palms facing up in a gesture of utter helplessness at the situation. Whispering to my dad she said, "That's so sad. SO sad. He will just be...squash."