I’d like a do-over God.
I’d like to wake up one day, maybe in high school, when I look across the room and make eye contact with the man who would fall for me like no other. We’d grow old together; have 4 children; two boys, two girls, and most importantly, a picket fence. We’d share so many anniversaries filled with love and flowers and sweet nothings, that I’d never be able to remember them all.
I’d have grandchildren running under foot while I baked cookies and pies for them, while brushing flower off my apron.
I’d have worn floors in an old farmhouse with a garden out back and flowers as far as the eye could see.
I’d spend my days mending socks, sewing quilts, sipping tea and reading or watching re-runs of Little House on the Prairie.
I’d have went to church every Sunday of my life, taking my family, and spent 10 years worth of Sundays baking for the church bazaar’s.
I’d have read thousands of books, mostly love stories, because I could relate. I’d listen to various music, but mostly love songs, because I could relate.
I’d have worked only part time, just to have spending money for extra’s like; baseball, piano lessons, presents at Christmas and on birthdays and ice cream.
I’d stand around every Wednesday chatting up the local book club about how my children had turned out so well, how happily married they all were, and how great their children were doing in school, and how I was so very proud; but I must run to make it to little Sally’s recital.
I’d never had a day in my life where my faithful husband wasn’t there for me; always backing me and strangely enough, would listen to my boring day.
I’d pose each Christmas for a family portrait with not only my family, but with my parents and siblings and all their families, with Uncle Joe making a peace sign above my head.
And finally on the last day of my life, I’d hold my husbands hand, and he’d say, “I’ll see ya soon, love,” as I die in his arms.
Yep, God, I’d like a do-over… just let me know when You’re ready, cause I am.
(I’m thinking about using this as the last chapter when I write the story of my life.)