Writing

January 13, 2026

I want to feel sand on my feet

Constantly

I want to read and I want to write more

I want to grow old

And I want to make people laugh

I want to chase dreams

And I want to make a whole lot of art

But this week

This week I want to be nine years old

I want to run from outside my grandparent’s old house in

the California sun onto the hard wood floors and through

the hallway I memorized

I want to hear my little brothers giggle and play hide and

seek

I want to pretend I know everything there is to know

And cry to mom five minutes later

I want to bake lemon bars

And be told to pick the big lemons from the tree outside

Then I think I’d like to go on a bike ride at dusk on bikes

we’ve long ago outgrown

I don’t remember what life felt like when I was nine years old

But I wish I could find out right about now