Now here is a little boy, a next-door neighbor of a friend of mine, who moved in last year. He came over, made himself quite at home, and told her that he’d always known her, always known her. And they would never, not in eternity, will they ever cease to know each other. One day, she said to him as he started to describe some incident of long ago…he’s only four years old. She said, “How long ago?” He said, looking through the window, “You see that bush?”—the bush is in full bloom, an enormous bush—and he said, “As many leaves as on that bush are the years. And I will know you when my head grows and reaches the sky.”715 ¶4