“Oh, dear. Bread and beer. If I were rich, I wouldn’t be here.” My grandma used to singsong this jingle when I was little. I would eagerly ask her where she would be. She was always quick to lock her fingers in mine and return a reminder that we could go wherever I wanted.
Now that I’m older, I’ve started to think on this again. Where would I be? What would I do? How would I answer her question? My greatest wish would be to spend one more day with her. But if I can’t do that, the least I could do is come up with an answer to her question. Continue reading “If I Were Rich, Where Would I Be?”