100 Dreams

Dream 1

"10...

9...

8...

7...

6...

5...

4...

3...

2...

1...

Ready or not, here I come."

I run away giggling. "Gotta hide. Gotta hide," I think to myself. I duck under the coffee table behind the couch in the living room, praying my dad won't think to look here. I can't be more than four or five years old.

I hear the thump of my dad's heavy work boots as he starts to turn around the corner of the bathroom, two rooms away from my hiding spot. I can hear his deep, throaty chuckle as he asks to the air around him,

"Where, oh where, is my sweet little Riles?"

I can picture the smile on his face and the "happy lines" around his eyes. I remember when I was two and I was sitting, more like jumping, on his lap.

"What are those, Dada?" I said, poking his wrinkles.

"Those are my happy lines," he replied smiling more.

He's coming around the corner into the living room now. I tuck myself up into a ball, covering my eyes. If I can't see him, he can't see me. Right? Tucking my knees tighter against my chest, I lay my head against the couch to my left. It's a scratchy, brown couch that we've had before I was born.

His work boots are clomping in the room right behind me. All I can think about is that if he finds me, I'm in for a tickle war. Hide and Seek with Dad always ended with tickles. I can feel my heart beating in my chest, wanting to fly to the moon with excitement.

"He's close," I think to myself.

"Riley, I found you," Dad sings, peeking his head over the side of the couch. He's on his hands and knees, and I take the opportunity. Laughing, I run and jump on his back. Instead of trying to get me off, he stands up. I scream, and thinking I'm going to fall, I close my eyes, prepared to hit the ground, instead, Dad grabs my hands and takes off running. When he hits the hardwood floors in the kitchen, he slides across it. Coming to a stop against the fridge, he lets me down.

"Popsicle?"