The words in the title of this post were originally spoken by my grandson. We were in the car and he was about half the age he is now. When he told me "I know where the key is hidden," it spoke volumes to me. I knew at that moment that his life would be well taken care of until he could take care of himself. Isn't that our highest hope for the children in our lives?
I carried the memory around until this post was written, years later. It seemed the perfect title.
The May 2013 Farmer Fred Award is presented to:
I Know Where the Key is Hidden
originally published on May 24, 2013
My Grandma lives at the end of Main Street and I can go into her house whenever I want, because she showed me where Grandpa hides the key.
The faces in the crowd are all friendly and familiar.
Every face I have ever seen in my life is in the crowd.
I am leading the band down the street.
I have a baton in my right hand and I know how to twirl it, but I am shy and I don't do the routine.
When the band starts to play.
Every person ever to graduate from our high school has been invited back for a reunion.
I am a waitress, not yet a graduate. Today, I want to go to the reunion.
I want to see a carnival, ready to set up on Main Street.
I want to cheer for the most beautiful queen that I have ever seen.
I want the parade to come back.
I want to hear Grandma and her friends laugh.
I want her to stop waving, so I can see her smile.
I want to participate, once more,
in all the fun
of growing up here.
Could our friends from McVille take off their masks, so we could see their faces?
I want to see everyone.
So we can all laugh together.
I want to smell horses and hear the sounds of harnesses and wagons.
Could we load up the engines?
And throw out some candy to the children?
Our own beloved place.
Blessed and blessing.
If my friends could just sing one more song...
But the wagon train has moved on.
Happy Memorial Day.