I pulled him in the little wagon
the dry grass was browned by the sunshine
his joyful squeal egged me on and I ran faster
the uneven ground was deceptive
and one wheel caught a hidden old gopher hole
the wagon bounced high and flipped
as I let go I saw a different expression on his face
one of terror and uncertainty…
the wagon flew towards the old red house
as I tumbled to the ground
I looked back to see tears trolling down his cheeks
but of laughter, not pain
when finally he could catch his breath
he simply uttered,
“can we go again?”