I Wish
We had six dollars worth of Powerball tickets on Saturday.
As a family we played a little game of pretending that we won the $450 million dollars.
“I’d never work,” Sam said. “Ever.”
“I’d quit school immediately,” Jake chimed in.
I have some ambitious kids.
And chances are, I’d be the only one who’d ever attempt to ever do anything ever again. I’d still write, of course, but there’d be a lot of sleeping in going on at Camp Clifford.
“I ain’t moving, either,” Sam said. “I have no desire to be in a new house or a different city. I’m good. Right here.”
So, Sam is content.
“We’d just give you the house then,” Kathy said. “We’d go somewhere warm.”
I started thinking about wishes.
We’ve all played the ‘find a lamp on the beach and the genie pops out’ game.
It changes as you get older.
I’d have to think about wishing I were 25 again.
Money would have to be involved, but I’d wish for happiness for my family...
...another dozen years for my dogs.
Health would certainly displace some of the less juvenile wishes.
Would be great to have my legs back.
As it turns out, I’d probably need more than three wishes.
Yet, Sam not really needing any major changes was interesting to me.
“With that much money we could probably go to the Final 4, the World Series and every super bowl,” he said.
“We’d definitely go see Bruce on Broadway again,” Kathy said.
That we WOULD do.
And yet, Saturday came and went.
We had one matching number...
...on the entire ticket.
Someone in Pennsylvania had a ticket that matched all the numbers.
The next day, I was driving along the Thruway...
...the powerball prize is down to a measly $30 million or so.
“We didn’t win,” I told Sam.
“Ah well,” he said. “We have salt and vinegar chips and Pepsi. What else do we need?”
Maybe he’s right.
Who needs wishes?
It would be fun to walk right though.
As a family we played a little game of pretending that we won the $450 million dollars.
“I’d never work,” Sam said. “Ever.”
“I’d quit school immediately,” Jake chimed in.
I have some ambitious kids.
And chances are, I’d be the only one who’d ever attempt to ever do anything ever again. I’d still write, of course, but there’d be a lot of sleeping in going on at Camp Clifford.
“I ain’t moving, either,” Sam said. “I have no desire to be in a new house or a different city. I’m good. Right here.”
So, Sam is content.
“We’d just give you the house then,” Kathy said. “We’d go somewhere warm.”
I started thinking about wishes.
We’ve all played the ‘find a lamp on the beach and the genie pops out’ game.
It changes as you get older.
I’d have to think about wishing I were 25 again.
Money would have to be involved, but I’d wish for happiness for my family...
...another dozen years for my dogs.
Health would certainly displace some of the less juvenile wishes.
Would be great to have my legs back.
As it turns out, I’d probably need more than three wishes.
Yet, Sam not really needing any major changes was interesting to me.
“With that much money we could probably go to the Final 4, the World Series and every super bowl,” he said.
“We’d definitely go see Bruce on Broadway again,” Kathy said.
That we WOULD do.
And yet, Saturday came and went.
We had one matching number...
...on the entire ticket.
Someone in Pennsylvania had a ticket that matched all the numbers.
The next day, I was driving along the Thruway...
...the powerball prize is down to a measly $30 million or so.
“We didn’t win,” I told Sam.
“Ah well,” he said. “We have salt and vinegar chips and Pepsi. What else do we need?”
Maybe he’s right.
Who needs wishes?
It would be fun to walk right though.
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