This is why I write

On the way to the sitter's this morning I was thinking about how nice it would be to have the freedom of a child again.

I remembered what it was like to watch my cousin climb up the back of the football bleachers in Kress, and how even though my grandmas chewed her ass- she smiled. It was worth it to her to feel the fear of falling, to feel the wind in her face-to feel the victory of conquering such an obstacle.

I want to feel that again. I want to play tackle football in the rain, to feel the wind in my hair going ninety down the highway.

I want to make a magic potion of milk, pickle juice and ketchup because if I drink it-I can stay up until the sun rises.

I want to play capture the flag and use the whole block for hide and seek. Or if we have to be banished inside-upgrade hide and seek to murder in the dark.

I want to steal garden gnomes and pumpkins and then send ransom notes to their owners, I want to play Charlie's Angels.

I want to swing, and jump, to fly, even if for half a second, and then feel my feet buried in the sand.

I want to be a boxer.

I want to transfer the pool in the backyard to the sea, and when I duck under the water I want to grow a fish tail and wear seashells over my breasts, and braided into my hair.

Anyone want to play with me?