I Have a Dream

I have a dream that somewhere, somehow, white sugar and white flour will be abolished for eternity from my kitchen. No more pretzels and wafers for school snacks. No more bread and chocolate spread packed in backpacks and lunch bags. In their place would be a new kind of food, and it will be eaten by all with no prejudice of age, gender, or weight. Fruits and vegetables would fill every breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and no one — no one — will utter a word of complaint.

I have a dream that laughter and joy will ring through the air. That every man, woman, and child in my home has a place for everything, and everything will be in its place. Gone would be the days of white socks again and again for the simple reason that the others were lacking their mates. Gone would be the days when the school bus honks again and again and I find myself crawling under beds and couches searching hopelessly, searching helplessly, for a priceless black Nike shoe. Homework would never again be wrongly stuffed into the graveyard called the junk drawer. Never again would it be shoved into the back together with car keys, phonebooks, and hairbrushes of all shapes and sizes.

I have a dream that my laundry will mingle freely in the hamper. Each will get proper care, proper cleaning, proper drying, and hanging appropriate to its care instructions. No more grayish, drab, button-down shirts. No more wrinkled dark pants. No more T-shirts shrunk to unwearable sizes. There will be sprays for every color, for every placket, for every sleeve. Shirts will be starched and pressed to perfection: white, pink, or any other shade.

I have a dream that bedtime will be sacred. Love will fill the air as hugs and kisses are given to children neatly tucked into bed. Bathtime will be for all — no matter how tired and kvetchy the child, no matter weddings, PTA, dishes, and that Daddy’s supper is burning. Teeth will be brushed up, down, and side; teeth flossed; toothpaste cap neatly replaced. Clothing will never be thrown on the floor, and perfume-scented pajamas would fill the air.