The Little Red Wagon
For a couple years, I was very happy. Both of them played with me. Even when I got scraped and bruised, it was okay because we were having fun. Then one day, one of my front wheels broke off. The kids couldn't figure out how to have fun with me any more. For a day or two, they turned me upside down and leaned me against things as a sort of fort. They soon tired of that.
What I would give to get those days back where one of the kids pulled the other around. I gave them rides until I was so tired I didn't think I could move any more. I always kept moving. I even made a convenient lemonade stand last summer. There was just enough room for a pitcher of lemonade, some cups, and a can for money. My side was just big enough for a sign to be hung. The kids had fun that day. I did, too.
There were also times when I was laid on my side. I was the wall the kids hid behind then their bad guy friends went shooting at them. I never could figure out who were the cowboys and who were the indians, but I was happy to be a part of the game. And, always at the end of playtime, I gave one of the kids a ride home as long as the other one was good enough to pull us along. Those were good days.
Lately, I've been gathering dust and am very sad. If I could cry, maybe some of the dust would go away. I heard some talk about throwing me away. I hope not. I don't want to go away. Without my wheel, though, I may not have a whole lot to say about what happens to me.
It was garbage day and a couple of weeks before Christmas. The parents of the kids bought a bigger, better wagon for their kids and my parking spot was going to be needed. I found myself on top of the garbage pile. It was fun while it lasted, but my life was much too short. I can hear the garbage men coming now.
Piece by piece, the trash was picked up and thrown into the truck. Piece by piece, my life was closer to being over. I felt myself being picked up. Instead of being thrown into the truck, though, I was tucked under someone's arm and given a spot on the floor of the truck.
"What are you going to do with that?" asked the driver.
"I thought I would see if I could fix it for my kid. A couple of new wheels and a paint job and this thing could be good as new." came the answer.
I had never heard such beautiful words in my life! Someone was going to fix me so that more kids could have fun with me. This was going to be the best Christmas ever.
What I would give to get those days back where one of the kids pulled the other around. I gave them rides until I was so tired I didn't think I could move any more. I always kept moving. I even made a convenient lemonade stand last summer. There was just enough room for a pitcher of lemonade, some cups, and a can for money. My side was just big enough for a sign to be hung. The kids had fun that day. I did, too.
There were also times when I was laid on my side. I was the wall the kids hid behind then their bad guy friends went shooting at them. I never could figure out who were the cowboys and who were the indians, but I was happy to be a part of the game. And, always at the end of playtime, I gave one of the kids a ride home as long as the other one was good enough to pull us along. Those were good days.
Lately, I've been gathering dust and am very sad. If I could cry, maybe some of the dust would go away. I heard some talk about throwing me away. I hope not. I don't want to go away. Without my wheel, though, I may not have a whole lot to say about what happens to me.
It was garbage day and a couple of weeks before Christmas. The parents of the kids bought a bigger, better wagon for their kids and my parking spot was going to be needed. I found myself on top of the garbage pile. It was fun while it lasted, but my life was much too short. I can hear the garbage men coming now.
Piece by piece, the trash was picked up and thrown into the truck. Piece by piece, my life was closer to being over. I felt myself being picked up. Instead of being thrown into the truck, though, I was tucked under someone's arm and given a spot on the floor of the truck.
"What are you going to do with that?" asked the driver.
"I thought I would see if I could fix it for my kid. A couple of new wheels and a paint job and this thing could be good as new." came the answer.
I had never heard such beautiful words in my life! Someone was going to fix me so that more kids could have fun with me. This was going to be the best Christmas ever.
posted by Vickie at 10:14 PM
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