“When you were a kid what were your wantings?”
asks my little boy
while I cuddle him close in the bottom bunk.
His word is unconventional, accurate, and simple.
My wantings were
to be important,
to be loved, and needed,
to mean something to someone,
to change the world in some way,
“Well, here I am!”
he proclaims, as he props up his curly head
and looks squarely at me.
Yes, there you are.
I have what I was wanting.