DON’T YOU WISH sometimes that you could be the carefree kid again? I do.
I wish I could be like my great nephew, Hank, with nothing to worry me—climbing dirt piles, tossing clumps of dirt, running here and there as fast as my short legs can move me.
And then when I was all tuckered out, I’d slip inside the house and cuddle a plush toy before settling onto my mother’s lap.
My head would dip and nod against her until I fell into sweet slumber. Then she would ever so gently lift me from her lap and snug me onto billowy cushions, my curls pressed against the armrest, my fingers furled against my forehead.
I know I can’t be two again. But I can dream.
© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling