Sunday Scribblings: When We Were Wee . . .

A Sunday Scribbling based on what I think my children would write after they are grown--right now, they are just a couple of boys with dirty feet, ages four and two.

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When We Were Wee . . .

When we were wee, we ran barefoot in our city backyard, all fenced-in grass and Pine and concrete walkway. We squatted and inspected--rocks, grubs, an army of ants conferencing on a dandelion.

Scoldings that seemed the size of boulders--let's break it down--tears into crumbly rocks, rocks into sandy, dry soil; tears to meet the ground and become lunch for the marigolds and petunias that bordered the lawn.

We watched our father leaning over his sketchbook; we wanted to be artists--we drew Spongebob with sidewalk chalk. We watched our mother scribbling in a notebook; we wanted to be writers--we scratched the grafitti of our names onto flat stones. We listened to a planes roar overhead; we wanted to be the pilots who trampolined onto clouds--we leapt off the top of the sliding board and into the mattress of grass. We could be all three, y'know, and other things, too: soccer stars, builders, chefs, and farmers.

We worked as a team, gathering pebbles and grass for sand stew--but there was always more to be done, a tent to be built, plastic toys to be hauled, some weeds to be cleared, the dog to be chased, then mounted, and ridden like an untamed pony. We declared war on one another over a shovel (James, clocked in the right eye, Mac, shoved down, face-first onto gravel), and we declared war on our parents, too, demanding a steady supply of cold beverages.

Days, scalded, turned into nights, tepid, and we still believed, as our parents hoped, that all could be cured with the proper SPF sunscreen, insect repellent, a cartoon, and a kiss. Inside for dinner, mosquitos clicking like tap dancers, against the stark kitchen light, and we longed for a light that warmed. We ate our favorite food group--"yellow things"--then swam in pool of Mr. Bubble, watching our tub turn brown as our day merged with the bathwater.

When we slept, we dreamt of bumblebees and tomato plants, skittish dogs and orange cars. When we woke up, we asked to go outside again.