I won the lottery
A blustery day, I am struggling to put groceries into my car while my two-year old chatters with me incessantly about matters that are incredibly important to her: the state of the economy; the evils of White House's domestic spying program; the introduction of Diego to Dora the Explorer. Rain clouds hover overhead threateningly, and deciding I'm not sufficiently impressed, begin to scatter large drops here and there.
I move more quickly. Only two more bags, and I can snuggle back into the comfort of my Prius. Thoughts filter in and out; how nice it would be to take a fancy vacation, to take the kids and head off to the south of France for awhile. I'd sit in some seaside cafe, sipping red wine while watching as my children simultaneously play in the surf with newly-found French playmates and discuss the issues of Franco-American politics in English but using perfect little French accents. (I don't speak French, not even in my daydreams.)
I have no idea what the weather is like in the south of France. I'm not even sure they have red wine, or even allow children in such an exotic locale. But I take a moment and send out a little wish-- ahh, if only I could win the lottery.
I shut my hatchback, and notice a fluttering out of the corner of my eye. I try to ignore it-- gah, trash, if I notice it I will have to pick it up... but my inquiring mind and my damn environmental guilt overtake me... I turn, and see not one but two scratch off lottery tickets-- still connected-- staring at me from the ground, in the empty parking space next to my car. Battered, smiling, and intact. Non-scratched. Unscathed.
I pick up the cards, half-believing, and put them in the car.
I refuse to look at them. I promptly avoid them for one full week, until my dreams are fed and my curiosity peaked and I can no longer stand the sight of the promises the cards may hold.
When I can take it no more, I, like my excema-ridden dog, scratch. Carefully, deliberately, intensely, I remove the silver-waxy jackpots one by one to reveal the magic winnings beneath.
Images of France dance and I, in my long pants, continue to scratch until suddenly I can prance. I WON! I WON! Ahhh, the romance!
No joke, I won the lottery.
I am two dollars closer to my south of France dream vacation.
I move more quickly. Only two more bags, and I can snuggle back into the comfort of my Prius. Thoughts filter in and out; how nice it would be to take a fancy vacation, to take the kids and head off to the south of France for awhile. I'd sit in some seaside cafe, sipping red wine while watching as my children simultaneously play in the surf with newly-found French playmates and discuss the issues of Franco-American politics in English but using perfect little French accents. (I don't speak French, not even in my daydreams.)
I have no idea what the weather is like in the south of France. I'm not even sure they have red wine, or even allow children in such an exotic locale. But I take a moment and send out a little wish-- ahh, if only I could win the lottery.
I shut my hatchback, and notice a fluttering out of the corner of my eye. I try to ignore it-- gah, trash, if I notice it I will have to pick it up... but my inquiring mind and my damn environmental guilt overtake me... I turn, and see not one but two scratch off lottery tickets-- still connected-- staring at me from the ground, in the empty parking space next to my car. Battered, smiling, and intact. Non-scratched. Unscathed.
I pick up the cards, half-believing, and put them in the car.
I refuse to look at them. I promptly avoid them for one full week, until my dreams are fed and my curiosity peaked and I can no longer stand the sight of the promises the cards may hold.
When I can take it no more, I, like my excema-ridden dog, scratch. Carefully, deliberately, intensely, I remove the silver-waxy jackpots one by one to reveal the magic winnings beneath.
Images of France dance and I, in my long pants, continue to scratch until suddenly I can prance. I WON! I WON! Ahhh, the romance!
No joke, I won the lottery.
I am two dollars closer to my south of France dream vacation.
posted by @traciAWESOME
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