Writing Assignment: Labor Day

School Days with Travelin Oma

Assignment: ~Write a paragraph about a job you would do for free. Prompt: "If money were no object, I'd like to be a ______, and work in_______."

If money were no object, and I could do any job in the world, I might operate a ranch. There are certain parameters of course, like winters that are real yet brief and a bunkhouse full of ranch-hands. There would be prize horses, grand stables, flourishing vegetable gardens, an idyllic and sprawling ranch house--like the Ponderosa of Little Joe's youth. Wide-plank wood floors. A vast kitchen in which I would prepare savory meals. Hearty and wholesome breakfasts to start the days work, comforting dinners to end it. I'd bake homemade bread to serve warm and topped with honey because every child must know such joy and comfort. I'd tend to the horses some, to the house much, to the garden some, and I'd have lavender and sunflowers and perhaps a rose garden. Towering evergreens to shade us and fragrant fruit trees for climbing. My little boys would grow sturdy and agile and really, truly understand the meaning of work. To take pride in their work no matter the job. To appreciate the feeling of work completed, and the subsequent feeling of really truly understanding leisure time. Together we would mend fences and paint walls and wrangle livestock and hoe rows and sweep porches. We would know a life full of meaningful work and meaningful leisure. Perhaps football games on the back lawn, perhaps lemonades on the wrap-around veranda or holidays in a home filled with loved ones and friends--especially friends who make pie because I just don't see myself doing it. Even in my fantasies.

Or perhaps I'd be on broadway. A cast member in a musical. Not the star, but one of those scene-stealing supporting roles like Ado Annie in Oklahoma, or Lina Lamont in Singing in the Rain. Who would be my Don Lockwood, pray tell? I'd have talent, naturally, for singing and dancing. I'd greet audiences after the show at the stage door. I'd do show after show for the sheer love of it, my stage fright notwithstanding. I'd slave over rehearsals to make sure I hit the high notes and made all the twirls and my figure would be rewarded. And it would be marvelously fun. A dream.

Or perhaps I'd live in a small home in a quiet neighborhood where children ride their bikes and play capture the flag and attend birthday parties. Where moms assemble on front porches, hens hovering over their flocks. Where babies are born, loved ones pass, and one friend looks out for the next in ways large and small. Where I bake Toll House chocolate chip cookies and make peanut butter sandwiches and spaghetti and meatballs and my little boys gobble it all up. Where my husband loves his work and contributes to the good of the world every day. Where my home is not a catalog page but still beds are cozy and loved ones are welcome. Where sometimes we argue but mostly we laugh. Where we tuck in our babies at night with Good Night Moon and Give Said the Little Stream. And open our windows for the valley breezes. And we love each other. Yes, maybe that's it.