Grandson # 2 and I were waiting at the bus stop earlier this week, headed for the library, when he looked up at me with his wiser-than-his-years big blue eyes and said,

“I don’t mean to be rude, Gramma, but are you and Gramps rich?”

My mind started to whirr. I had to quickly consider who was asking. We all know the old joke about the child who asks their mother where they came from and gets a long explanation of the facts of life before saying “My friend says they came from Toronto”.

Grandson #2 is not quite 10 years old, but he’s unusually empathetic. This is a child who at 9 asked to give a eulogy at his Nonna’s funeral, and then wrote one on his own and did. This is a child who defers to his temperamental younger brother when choosing from where to order his own favourite food (pizza). This is a child who, when left one on one with an adult family member, wants to have philosophical discussions about life and death. This is a child who gets in trouble at school for defending smaller kids against bullies.

But this is also a normal 10 year old who can push his brothers’ buttons while playing video games until they’re screaming at each other like crazed monsters.

Are Gramps and I rich?

Yes. We’re rich because we’ve had each other to love for almost 50 years, and are looking forward to many more. We’re rich because we had jobs we enjoyed, and that offered the kind of security that is, unfortunately, increasingly rare in the workplace. We’re rich because we’re still in good health, and have always had access to the health care we needed. We’re rich because we never had to worry about having a safe place to live and raise our family. We’re rich because we have friends with whom to share our experiences. We’re rich because we have extended family in our lives. We’re rich because we have the freedom to live our retirement in the style that suits us. We’re rich because we’re still learning new things every day that enrich our lives.

We’re rich because we have sons of whom we are able to be very proud, daughters-in-law who we genuinely love, and three absolutely amazing grandsons. That’s wealth beyond measure.

Did I tell him all that?

No. Because like the child who just wanted to know what city they came from, I was pretty sure it wasn’t what he was asking. Instead, I responded with “Why do you want to know?”

“Because how can you always go on trips and buy us presents?”

So that’s a different answer altogether.

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Are Gramps and I rich?

No. But we’re definitely not poor either.

I reminded him that Gramps and I don’t have a house any more; he can remember the last condo we owned, but was not born yet when we still had a house. I reminded him that we don’t have a car, which is why we’re taking the bus to the library. I reminded him that when we aren’t travelling, we don’t eat in restaurants (except with his family), we don’t buy fancy brand name clothes (much to the chagrin of his older brother), we don’t drink fancy coffee (except what his dad makes for us), and we don’t rent fancy places to live.

I told him that we can only travel all the time because we sold all our things and put that money in the bank. Even at ten, he has overheard his dad and granddad discussing pensions and investments enough times that he understands the concept of how putting money away lets us take some out every month.

He seemed to understand, although on some level I think he still sees us as (monetarily) rich. I expect that our adult kids sometimes see us that way too. We always try to remind them of how frugal we had to be “when we were their age”, but I guess it’s a good thing that they weren’t conscious at the time of what we did without.

Are we rich?

In all the ways that matter, yes.