The third grade comparison

For whatever reason, I sometimes tend to draw comparisons between where I am now and where the third grade me might have thought I’d be today. For example, when I see homeless people, I can’t help wondering what the third grade version of that person wanted to be when they grew up. I’m sure I’ve talked about this sort of thing before.

So, tonight as I sit in my room d’hotel contemplating flying home tomorrow night, I found myself thinking about eight-year-old me once again. I don’t recall being the tidiest person back then. So, what would  flood-tide Michael have thought if he had known that one day he would be sitting alone in a hotel room salivating at the thought of spending the weekend upcoming sorting stuff for give-away and rearranging rooms and cleaning nooks and crannies we haven’t seen in some years because they’re behind, say, my Aunt Suzie’s vanity that we never move because we’re afraid it will finally fall apart and besides, it’s heavier than (insert something that you think of as really heavy and make it something interesting, not heavy as ‘hell’ or heavy as ‘all get out’ because even though I loved my Mom and would give anything for another moment with her I have to admit that I never really understood what an ‘all get out’ was or how one might determine its weight) so absent a really good reason we wouldn’t even be moving it now?

I think I would have shaken my head at that thought as I tossed another gum wrapper under the bed.