one month from today.

I want to eat a thick, juicy cheeseburger.  Filet Mignon straight from the grill.  Guacamole with big, creamy avocado chunks. Publix bakery Italian bread.  Real cheese . . .  sharp cheddar and fresh-grated parmesan.  I want a huge fried-chicken salad from Ruby Tuesday’s.  And ice-cold two percent milk by the glassful.

I cannot wait to drive.  To walk out of the house and climb in the car and go wherever I want.  To change my mind mid-trip and stop by a friend’s house or pick up a mocha from Starbucks.

I want to wander the aisles of favorite supermarkets – Giant and Stauffers and Publix and Food Lion.   Then I want to take over my mother-in-law’s kitchen and bake cookies and muffins and artisan bread to my heart’s content.

I want to brush my teeth with water straight from the tap.  And take a long, long hot shower and shave my legs.

I want to watch my kids run free in a field of grass and walk on a smooth sidewalk.  I want to let them stop and pet every dog they see.  I want to walk with them into the hushed, glass-walled Richland County Public library, and feel the a.c. blasting, and take the elevator down to the lively children’s floor.  I want to let them pick out whatever books they want.

I want to wear shorts and sleeveless shirts and dresses.  I want to walk down the street and not be stared at.  I don’t want my children to be stranger-surrounded, squeezed, cheeks pinched.  I don’t want to be laughed at for my funny accent.  I want to blend in.

I don’t want to ever stop hugging people.   I want to sit in a room full of people who know me.  I want to laugh until I cry.  I want to stand in church and sing with my eyes closed because I know all the words.  I want to open my Bible and take notes and listen to the whole sermon and know my kids are happy in Children’s Church.

One month from today.

I can’t wait.