Daddy, when we get home, can I have a popsicle?

There’s a pile of work on my kitchen table taller than a loaf of Merita standing on end.  There’s a bag in my chair that’s filled with books, notebooks, planning books, and the supplies for my productive weekend.  More mail and bills than I care to admit is collecting dust in a reusable tote bag, right next to the other silent, stewing chores.  On the top shelf of my refrigerator, you can find two chicken breasts, marinating in a pesto sauce.

It’s 6:22 on a Sunday evening, and I’m sitting on my back porch writing.  Writing, in hopes of escaping a fleeting moment that has found itself frozen in my mind.  Someone pushed the pause button as I dashed into the local Winn-Dixie yesterday before I even found my way past the self-serve registers and exiting customers.

A little boy I don’t even know, the youngest son of a stranger, brought a smile to my face, most likely without even noticing my existence.  A simple request, granted by Daddy, tickled him pink.  His giddiness smeared a nostalgic smile across my face like creamy Peter Pan on a soft piece of bread.

Since that moment, his little voice has echoed in my mind continuously.  I couldn’t help wishing, as I headed to find a six-pack for The Husband, wouldn’t it be nice to live like that?

Instead, we live in a Grown Up World where carpet has High Traffic Zones.  Roots need Touching Up and hair needs Shaping Up.  Sprinkler systems need to be repaired.  Our weeks are scheduled down to the minute, our years to the day.  We have to make special trips to specialized pet stores for organic dog food and Parent-Teacher Conferences to discuss our preschooler’s social skills and articulation.  Our outfits not only need to match, but be professional and flattering

.  People not only have blood types, but skin types and personality types and personal systems of organization.   Are you an Everything Out or Everything Away?

We don’t skip much.  We step on cracks.  We don’t swap clothes and jewelry with our buddies.  We feel


when we eat dessert and try not to be late for our scheduled time to ride a bike we don’t own...inside.  We try not to get dirty, and we worry about the cold we think we can feel “coming on”.  We have intimate relationships with our cell phones and snooze buttons.

Tonight, I’m going to eat a popsicle for dinner.  A coconut popsicle.

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