A Journey

When we were all children –

Little people,

We were honest, very honest,

Because that’s all we knew for certain.

Just take a little wagon,

Full of cookies,

And a glass jar full of water,

So that we can survive the long trip.

Then take that little wagon,

Three million miles to the pasture,

Where lions and tigers roam,

And carry a stick to protect us from them.

Then we travel from jungle to desert,

And meet Grandpa, walking through the mountains,

And then we stop and talk, and have some cookies,

And then move on . . .

Now with Grandpa as our newest Sherpa!

Even though the food is practically gone,

Before we ever leave the yard,

We still tingle with every step on our journey,

Because we are explorers of the world.

And that’s all we know for certain.

And so many years have flown by,

The excitement of the journey is no longer enough.

We need something extra. We are over-stimulated.

We have amped-up the cookies and the water.

Grandpa has long-since vanished, but he travels elsewhere.

And he’ll travel longer than we will,

Because he’s still a kid, and a Sherpa, wherever he is.

The kicks we need now, have made us old.

We are destination-bound, no longer thrilled with the journey,

We’re no longer excited with the cookies,

And the tepid water and Grandpa’s stories.

Do we even have journeys left?

Or are they as far away as Grandpa?

I loved those cookies – peanut butter, I think they were . . .

Because no one was allergic to peanuts then.

And the water tasted like the pickle juice that was in the jar before.

Entertainment and drama in every sip.

. . . Hey! If it’s nice tomorrow, let’s find the old ‘Radio Flyer’,

And go out and look for Grandpa.

There’s uncharted territory out there – mountains that need to be climbed,

Jungles that need to be explored.

Imagination that needs to be honed.

Let’s go on a journey.

I’ll bring the cookies. You bring the water.

And we’ll pretend that’s all we know for certain.