What I Want
I want to go for a walk to check the fence with Gramma, and wade the creek.
I want to hear Grandpa say “close the door Arkansawyer!”
I want to eat popcorn and watch old westerns on a cold Sunday afternoon.
I want to go fishing and see who can catch the most fish.
I want to ask Grandpa questions.
I want a big old bowl of butter beans and to eat them sitting in the kitchen at the pull out cutting board.
I want to play in the sandbox and not worry about anything.
I want to eat oatmeal cookies and canned peaches.
I want to play possum just to get to stay all night at Gramma’s
I want to build a fort out of an army blanket and the kitchen table.
I want to climb on the water wagon.
I want to have a picnic in the woods.
I want to ride in the back of the pickup on the way to church.
I want to play with Gramma’s calculator during the sermon.
I want to swing until the cat dies down.
I want to eat snap peas right out of the garden.
I want to pick strawberries walking in the road.
I want to stand in feed bin and watch Grandpa feed the cows.
I want to ride my bike through the garden sprinklers.
I want to drink sour lemonade and wonder why it makes cookies taste funny.
I remember as a very little kid going with Dad to check on Grandpa’s hogs while they were away. I don’t think there is anything as lonely as being at their house and them not being home.
