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  • Maybe, someday, I will grow up.

    I will see the bare dirt of the yard rather than the blooms overhead or the blue sky beyond.

    I will see what strangers see when they pull up to our building. I will worry about curb appeal and worry about what the neighbors must think.

    I will look at the yard and think of the things that need to be done. I will see hours of labor, weeds to be pulled, and money to be spent on dirt and mulch, flowers, shovels, and rakes, a few paving stones and a couple of decorative benches.

    Will anyone really want to sit in the yard in the summer? Wouldn't they rather just go someplace else? There's a huge park down the street and the National Mall not much farther. We have balconies. We have a roof deck. I don't understand, but maybe, someday, I will. I will want to sit on a bench in front of our building and call out to people walking past.

    Maybe, someday, I will see weeds when I spot dandelions covered with fluff. For now, I can only see wishes.
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