My little girl life happened way back when,
when I was eight or nine, or maybe ten.
I can remember...
Dipping cinnamon graham crackers into milk after school.
Riding bikes with my brother and sister - bragging,
"Look no hands!" (Weren't we cool?)
Being in awe of the stars, sequins in the velvet-sky night.
Waking up in the morning to birds singing, welcoming first light.
Sleeping on sheets: clothesline-dried, smelling of sun and air.
Drifting into dreams: tired, happy, no troubles to bear.
Listening to Dad's stories, told with a grin.
He'd get tickled at his own tales before he'd even begin.
Picking ripe, red strawberries straight from the patch.
Eating Mom's cookies - warm from the oven, love in each batch.
Husking corn, snapping beans, and shelling peas.
Running barefoot in the yard, steering clear of bees.
Making homemade churned ice cream, waiting for it to freeze.
A kiss from Mom, the miracle that healed our skinned knees.
Making gum wrapper bracelets and blowing dandelion wishes.
Sharing chores: setting the table, feeding the dog, and washing dishes.
Playing with the neighbors, games like hide-and-go-seek.
"Maple tree is home. Close your eyes. Count to 25, and don't peek!"
Lining up, hand to hand, calling, "Red rover, red rover."
Making nosegay bouquets from Queen Anne's Lace and clover.
My little girl life happened way back when,
when I was eight or nine, or maybe ten.
Imagine what it would be like to live that life again.
