DREAMING AGAIN

Walking into the church office, I said, “I’ll be happy to help the children with their craft projects. When do I start?”

Looking up from her cluttered desk, the stout curly-head brunette asked, “Could you start today?”

“I guess so, but I’ll need materials.”

“No problem. There are always craft materials for the children.”

Indeed there were: colored yarn, scraps of old rugs, and many shapes of colored paper of different sizes. But where were the children? Then I heard them scampering down the hall, squealing and giggling. Mothers’ admonishing voices too.

A little blonde, tousle- headed boy stormed in to the room and scrambled to find his favorite little blue chair at the long paper-covered table. Then he chose an eight by ten inch rectangular sheet of royal blue paper and immediately started to work on his composition. I leaned over him to help him with his design when a tall shaggy-headed man whom I recognized as a famous New York artist stopped me.

“It must all be his work, not yours.”

I stepped back, “ Of course. You’re quite right.”

It was a delight to see what the children created with the materials at hand: clowns, colorful cats and dogs, kids with soccer balls, wide-eyed dolls in polka-dotted dresses and many-colored balloons.

Suddenly I found myself readying my bicycle for a cross country trip. Husband Fred was all set to go. I still had to get my bag of equipment on the bike rack. “Fred I was supposed to be helping the children with their craft projects. I must call the church secretary. Oh no!! I can’t find my cell phone. She’ll never forgive me!”

Then I was bicycling over muddy ruts in a rain forest. “How did I get here?” Gorgeous green, yellow and red parrots dipped and soared overhead. Ahead of me an elegant lady in a flowing blue and green chiffon dress screamed as a black blob landed on her shoulder.

“Served her right for wearing that outfit on a bike ride,” I muttered to myself.

Georgialee Granger