If I had the ability I would ...

It would be easy if we could do anything without having to learn how to do it first. There is a movie we watched the other day that makes it that easy. All they do is download a desired knowledge into your brain, and you instantly have the ability.

It sounds wonderful, but where would the individualism be? How would any of us stand out as great in our fields? We all would be able to do everything, so there wouldn’t be any need to do anything.

There are God given talents in all of us, but they have to be nurtured. There is a learning process for all of us no matter what abilities we are striving to accomplish. Even the best athletes in the world started in little leagues and back yard pickup games.

When we have our first children, we have to show them and teach them everything, or so we think. We spend countless hours talking baby talk and showing them nuances. These little sponges are watching and observing us at all times. Even when don’t want them to.

I watched Cody one time with Kate in the kitchen. He was in the last stages of one of those three-day viruses that make everyone miserable. They had gone through the routine time after time: She would take the children’s medication out of the upper cabinet and give him a teaspoon before bed.

Cody was at the age where he wanted to do everything for himself, so when his mother sat him on the counter to give him the medication, he told her that he wanted to take the lid off the bottle. It was a childproof top, but she let him give it a try.

He struggled and grunted and twisted and listened to the clicking of the lid. I bet he checked to see if it was unscrewing a dozen times. Kate showed a great deal of patience with him. I would have probably taken it away from him and already had him in bed.

She took it from him and shook it up to make sure the medication was in full suspension. He watched intently. She then administered the proper amount of pressure on the lid and twisted it off very gently.

A look of amazement came all over Cody and he exclaimed; “oh… you have to shake it first”. It has been five or six years now, but he still shakes the medicine bottles with determination before he opens them up for his mother...



Shannon R Killman

If I were more agile I would ...

I notice more and more that I am moving just a little more careful than I used to. I was leaning down to get a new trash bag for the kitchen trashcan and I remember thinking to myself “ why does Kate insist on putting these things all the way in the back? It makes it almost impossible to reach them”.

The funny thing is that the bags have been in the same place for the past eight years. Maybe it is that I had lost some of my flexibility and agility.

We watched a special the other day on these people… evidently some close knit organization, and a small one, of people who can put themselves in small boxes and who can twist themselves into knots. I’m sure you have seen these special individuals. They do have a gift. They are the most agile and flexible of all of us.

I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to watch that. I do want to be able to wiggle into tight places when I need to or under the car or truck to check out an unusual noise or something, but I don’t want to get in a box the size of this computer and monitor!

If we don’t use what we have and take care of what we have, we all will need to buy slip-on shoes before our time. My lifelong friend, Jim Greenwood, has remained wonderfully active forever. He has always taken good care of himself and continues to compete in running and cycling races. He is now in the over forty categories, but he is out there remaining agile.

I was on a visit to Arizona not too long ago and there were children running around everywhere. My sister Dana was there with half of her children, I was there with half of mine and the neighbor’s children were there too. We had all invaded Dad’s fiefdom.

I came downstairs one morning and I saw Dad sitting on the edge of his chair. I wasn’t real sure what was going on, but he was huffing and puffing under his breath. I saw a couple of kids scamper off out of the corner of my eye and when I focused in on him, I saw him holding a couple of antique ice hooks. I thought he had finally snapped. He looked at me and I looked at him…

What I didn’t see at first was that the ice hooks were very precisely guided into the loops on his boots. He was using the hooks as an extension of his hands. It was easier for him to grab on to the handles on the hooks than those little loops they put on boots. Years of hard work had taken a little agility from Dad’s hands.


Shannon R Killman

If I were smaller I would ...

I have the occasion to drop off my children at their schools from time to time. When I look around at the multitudes of little humanoids, I think, “How in the world can someone that is less than three feet tall be so complete?”

As I write this, my youngest (and smallest) daughter who is just over two now, just finished telling me that she is a big girl. She turned the water off all by herself. Can you imagine looking up to my six feet plus frame and telling me that you are big? I guess it depends on from whose eyes the observation is made.

I remember visiting relatives when I was smaller. Smaller… younger… much smaller. They would always tell me that I had grown a foot! I felt big even when I was actually small. Everything looked huge. We would go on vacation and the cars were huge and the campsites were huge. My parents were huge and well, they were old too, but I came to understand that one day I would be big too and I couldn’t wait to be old. Smallness was for babies.

I can remember being small enough to sit in my Grandmother’s lap. She would pat my leg and tell me that when I was very small she would sleep with me in the bed at night and hold my feet until I would go to sleep.

My first small memory was in my great-grandmother’s farmhouse in Arizona. I remember Grandma Baker telling Rantz and I that it was time for a nap. I recall running across the house to the big bed. It was a race with my brother that went on forever. We had to climb into that big bed and struggle onto the mattress.

It was twenty something years later when I was able to go back into that farmhouse where they used to live. It was a small block building with one small bedroom and one small bathroom. All of it was small. I wanted to be small at that moment. I wanted to be able to run across that old cool floor and chase back my memories.

I took the time to photograph the hands of all of my children some time ago. I placed their hand within mine and took a quiet shot of a slice of time. Natalie’s hand was the largest and she held my hand as much as I held hers. Shannon’s hand was slender and thin, much like her mother’s. Cody didn’t want me to show the bruise on his thumb, so we worked out the perfect position. Katelin was in for the game and wanted to get both hands in the shot. Jackson was willing to curl his little hand into mine because the other children had been waiting in turn. Finally I was able to unclench the infant hand of Darby to make the experience complete.

I love to look at those little pictures. I’m not sure how to describe the feeling that it gives me, but it makes the world a little quieter… and softer... and smaller.

Right now, if I could, I would close my eyes and be back there in the coolness of my grandmothers Margie’s summer sheets. I would be lulled to sleep by the sweetness of her hands cupping my little feet… much like I do and have done to each and every one of my own little children. That is the small that I want to be. That is the small I want to remember…


Shannon R Killman

If I were Taller I would…

I happen to end up as one of the tall people. I wanted to be taller because I had visions of playing in the NBA, but I am just too short to be scrapping with the seven footers.

As a teenager, I was the guy that was in charge of cleaning off the tops of the refrigerators in all of my friends’ mother’s homes. Mom wanted to know why I wouldn’t do it at our home.

I have towered over most of my family members since I was a teenager. My brother Rantz used to tell all of our friends that I was adopted. Looking back, I see that being adopted is not a big deal, but when I was ten, it was worth fighting over. I got bigger and Rantz and I didn’t fight much more.

It’s good to be tall in order to reach the light bulbs in the ceiling fixtures without having to get a chair, or getting stuff off of the top shelf at the grocery store. But, I do have a ridge on the top of my head that I attribute to bumping into things. I have developed a habit of looking up before I rise out of a chair (just in case). People that are less than six feet tall can’t imagine how painful it is to hit the top of your head on the corner of an open kitchen cabinet.

That is one of the small, wonderful advantages of being tall. You run into things with your head that weren’t designed for coming into contact with the head. Ears are targets too. You can also imagine the fun I have when I manage to jab something into my temple. There is a down side for every up side.

When my brother Rantz and I are ever photographed together, he always gets up on his toes as to not appear shorter than I. It is a ritual that we have rehearsed for the last thirty years. I try to get up on my toes too before the picture flashes as to not allow any advantage on his part.

I have come to the conclusion that I like very much being tall. Some people don’t like it. If you are trying to blend into a crowd it doesn’t help much, but I never wanted to be a private investigator or stealthy anyway. Some people help little old ladies cross the street. I help them get stuff off of the shelves in the grocery store. There is a purpose for all of us.


Shannon R Killman

If I could do it again I would…

Everybody has made mistakes and misjudgments during the course of their lives that they would like to change. It is interesting, by going back and doing it all over again, we would change our experience and therefore possibly change our personalities. After all, we all are a compilation of our life’s experiences.

If I could do a lot of the things over again that I wanted to have come out differently, it would be the things that got me in trouble or caused me the most embarrassment.

I can remember going into a store with my mother and my brother Rantz. Most of the scene is fuzzy because of our ages. We were probably about three or four years old. I can’t remember taking the pack of gum out of the store, but I do remember giving some to Rantz and then being caught by Mom.

Oh, the terror of having to go back in the store with Mom and having to tell the storeowner that I took it! I can still feel the agony of the moment. If I hadn’t been caught or it had been excused, I might not remember the experience. Perhaps it would have changed my character. It is now going on thirty-something years since that event in Houston, Texas. That seems to be long enough to think about that pack of Juicy Fruit gum. It’s no wonder that I prefer Spearmint.

If we can just try and teach our children and the youth that surround us how important it is to take a little time and think of all of the consequences of our actions. Just one small point to have them absorb and build as part of the personality traits that make up their persona.

I haven’t had such a hard time in life as to want to be a Blues Singer, or even come close to qualifying, especially when I hear what others have had to go through. When I look back and think about the things I would have changed, I come up with things that were seemingly trivial. I guess my life wouldn’t even qualify as a very good country music song…


Shannon R Killman

If I had more Energy I would…

If I had more energy I would more than likely have to live a different lifestyle. I would eat differently and walk and exercise and try to take better care of myself. I’m not completely convinced I would have more energy after all of the activity but my mind tells me it would be a good thing to do. Maybe we could all use a little change in our lives and do some good for ourselves.

I have to admit that I am slightly envious of the people I know that do run and walk consistently (no matter the weather). My brother-in-law, Tommy, will run even when he is on vacation. On the other hand, when I get some time off from work, all I want to do is nap.

I go back to an example of my children because they are such a big part of my life. Little Shannon can go to bed at 2:00 AM and at 7:00 AM she is right in your face asking what is for breakfast. On the other hand, you can get her to bed at 8:00PM and she is right back in your face at 7:00 AM with the same smile and request.

The children can go swimming at the local swim club for ten hours a day and want to get home so they can ride their bicycles. They may take a few minutes out of their day to eat a little something but unless you force them to go to bed, they will carry on until they drop.

When I was young and would be on my way to school in the morning, I would get my bicycle out of the garage and pet the cat on the way out. Sometimes I would pause for a moment and wish I were that cat. Too-Too would sit in the sun most of the day and relax in the yard without a care in the world. I had to go to school while she just got to sit around all day. I think she knew I was a little desirous of her feline freedoms. She seemed to get along just fine without more energy. As a matter of fact, I think she lived about seventeen or eighteen years.

Shannon R Killman

If I was Stronger I would...

I was in the local gym working out the other day and while on the stationary bicycle, an older man sat down beside me and began his workout. He was obviously in pristine shape. Even for a man half his age.

He told me that he was 74 years young. He was muscular and fit and strong. I told him that at the rate he was going, he would probably live forever. He told me “I am going to live forever; it’s just that this old body won’t”.

When we think of being stronger, it may be in the physical sense or in the mental sense. When I am faced with a difficult situation that doesn’t quite go the way I want, I on occasionally think, “I wish I were stronger”.

The mind has a remarkable ability of controlling our strength. There are stories of people doing extraordinary things that would normally be physically impossible.

If I had to choose between the physical and the psychological, I would choose to be mentally stronger. To be mentally stronger would lead to greater understanding, greater discipline, greater compassion and far more patience.

The children are all taking karate classes. It is a wonderful way of getting rid of some of their excess energy. They have a wonderful instructor who cares a great deal about all of the kids. They don’t know it, but they are learning a great deal more than how to do a front-kick and a side-kick.

He is introducing them to mental toughness and mental discipline. It is a great age for them to get started. They are young and willing to learn.

I want to be able to take on challenges that will be fruitful for my mental well-being as well as physical until it is my time to bow out. I too, am going to live forever…


Shannon R Killman

If I were Smarter I would…

I imagine that everyone thinks they are already smart. I know that I have my limitations, but I am smart… my mother told me so.

I was fortunate as a student because I didn’t have to study a great deal to make good grades while all the time thinking I was getting away with something. When I really applied myself and did what I was supposed to do, I was able to accomplish more and with more confidence. I wonder what would have happened if I was able to apply that glimmer of attitude all of the time to all areas of my life. It would have been a smart thing if I would have.

I know that if we let our minds remain idle and don’t exercise the gray matter we have be given, we will be TV watchers and video game players for the rest of our lives. I heard a researcher the other day saying one of the best ways to exercise the brain is to challenge it. He suggested learning a foreign language or learning to play a musical instrument.

He also mentioned that the brain waves of the average person, while watching TV, are approximately the same as a person while sleeping. It sounds like it is time to pick up a book or listen to the radio or something.

We are smart if we learn from our mistakes. Sometimes it is hard to even identify what our mistakes are, unless you have the kind of friends or family that like to point them all out to you. I hope that I can continue to learn from my errors and learn from those that I consider smart people.

My friend Mike likes to say, “The more I teach you, the dumber I get.” I’m not sure exactly what it means, but I guess I’ll catch on one day…


Shannon R Killman

If I had more Time I would...

I hate to go to bed at night. I love to stay up late and go to bed exhausted. I wake up tired and don’t have to be pleasant or energetic in the morning. No one in my house talks to me in the morning. To be honest, I like it that way. It takes me a while to get to that cheerful stage of my day.

If the day was longer and there was more time in the day, I think I would like to sneak in a little nap. My grandfather took us to Mexico when we were children and I have visited a couple of times as an adult. They have it figured out. Every day around noon, everything in the small towns shuts down. They all take the time to take a siesta. What a wonderful way to go through life. Just take a nap. After the hot noon hours, the shops open back up and they go back to the day at hand.

They have made more time to do the things that they feel necessary. Much of the industrialized world, on the other hand, is constantly trying to find a way to squeeze time. The average vacation for an American is now 5 days per year and the workweek is up to 46 hours.

There is no more time. No time to relax and listen. You can shave in the car on the way to work. Microwave corn dogs aren’t that bad, but they aren’t that good either. We find it necessary to do everything faster so we can fill our days up with more things to do.

We have the same amount of time that Andy Taylor had in Mayberry, NC. They always had time to sit on the front porch and enjoy a cup of coffee and have casual conversations with the neighbors that strolled by on their late afternoon walk. They found the time to play a little guitar from time to time. They found the time to dress for dinner.

Why is it that we think we have to make the time to enjoy the important things in life… to relax after a home cooked meal and listen to our children as they tell us of their daily adventures? We can’t make more time… it has already been made. The last time I checked, there were still twenty-four hours in a day.

We simply need to use our time more wisely. Turn the cell phones off every once in a while and turn the television off every once in a while. In our home, we now use some of our evening to read or to talk to each other. At first the children thought we had lost our minds. They didn’t have the time. I have learned a great deal about my family by just sitting back and listening. I still think I could spend a little more time making the time to do that.

I always had this vision of waking up in the morning… grinding my fresh coffee beans and sitting down to read the morning newspaper. The sun would be shining in the picture window and I would slowly come to life. There would be no hurry. I could take all the time I want. I’ve never done that. I don’t want to miss any thing when I am awake so I feel like I shouldn’t just sit around in the quiet.

We are a temporary fixture in this world and are here for only a short amount of time. Time is the constant. Time will eventually win the race between all of us. I for one will try to portion out my day to do the things that are right, good and fruitful.

One day I will sit down in the quiet of the dawn with my cup of aromatic coffee and read my newspaper while silently pondering the schedule of my day… even if I have to go to Mexico to do it.


Shannon R Killman

If I were Older I would...

Most people look back to their youth when they are older, and most of us look forward when we are young. I am just about in the middle and am therefore looking in both directions.

It appears as if most of us are looking forward to a life that is filled with leisure and quiet. It would be nice for us to grow old in good health with family and friends all around. I am sure that it will happen to me in just that manner. I will be wealthy and wise, and will be loved by all, waiting for the multitudes of my offspring to come and visit and leave before any of them start to get on my nerves.

I was having a little trouble reading a book not to long ago and went to the optometrist for my first eye exam. The doctor told me that I would start having that kind of problem now that I was in my forties. Great, I thought! Well, after the glaucoma examination and after having my eyes dilated, they led me by the hand to go and pick out some frames for the new lenses I could use for reading.

I would think that it would be a good idea in the future to pick out the frames ahead of time (before having my eyes dilated). I was doing the best I could not falling on my face and they wanted me to pick out frames. When I left the mall with my new glassed in tow, little did I know that the first time that I put them on; my wife would say that I reminded her of Buddy Holly. I would have gotten some new frames after that but I just couldn’t see throwing away my new frames that just cost me a cool $300.00. I told her that those types of frames were just now coming back in style... I was on the cutting edge!

My Grandmother told me not long ago that I was just being a crybaby, and I should just wait until I get to be about eighty to complain about my aches and pains. She was right. I hope that I can take good care of myself, and make sure that my children take good care of themselves so they can be eighty and talking to their adult grandchildren.

I keep feeling the age fairy nipping at my heels. I do look forward to getting older but I am more than aware every day that I cannot keep treating my body like I am twenty years old. It’s just little things that irritate me. Like hurting my knee when I strain too much or waking up and having my joints pop and creak. Has anyone seen the Tylenol?...


Shannon R Killman

If I were Younger I would...

I am under the assumption that all adults that pass the “over forty” age bracket take some time to reflect on what they have accomplished in the past and look back with questions and curiosity.

It’s funny… my friend Mike and I have been watching each other age over the past twenty years or so, and we razz each other concerning our apparent thinning of hair. Well, if truth-be-known, its more his than mine. Anyway, he tells me that my forehead is growing faster than his waistline. But, he forgets that I am a bit taller than him and that I can see the top of his head. I know for a fact that if he works outside for any amount of time, that his once protected scalp will now turn scarlet by the day’s end. It’s interesting that when we were younger, we never thought of things like that.

I have been warned, for years now, that time will creep up on me and I will be looking back instead of forward. I guess that time has come to pass.

I have started thinking of health-care issues and political issues and thoughts that I once believed belonged to my parents and their parents. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not spiraling out of control here, I just have come to the conclusion that I am about half way through this process described as the ever-shortening cycle of life.

When I was in grade school, Mrs. Jeffcoat had us figure out how old we would be in the year 2000. Well, when I did the math and I saw that I would be thirty-eight years old, I thought that I would never reach that age. The young mind cannot comprehend that kind of quantum leap. Besides, I thought Mrs. Jeffcoat must have been at least a hundred years old at the time and there was no way I even wanted to live that long… by the way, do you think that Leslie Overterf likes me? And what time does the bell ring for recess?

When we are young, all we want to do is be older. When we get to the place that we thing we are older, we want to look back and see what we could have done when we were younger. What a great paradox we put ourselves through.

We don’t really change that much on the inside through the years. I still feel the same way I did as I did when I was half my age now. That is why I think it is so important that we teach our children well when they are young and try to set the correct examples for them. They will be here soon looking at us in the mirror and will be pondering the same thoughts that we ponder now.

I do strive to rest in the place that I am now and enjoy the time that I do have. Fantasies are wonderful and thoughts of youth are normal, but the events of our daily lives can take over if we do not take the time to find a quiet place… a quiet place for the physical body and for the spiritual soul.

We have all made decisions that changed our lives and we all could have done things differently. That is what sets us apart from other beings. We have a choice. And as we all know, with all choices come the consequences of our decisions.


                                                                               Shannon R Killman

My Twenty.... Intro

About 8 or 9 years ago I wrote a book called ... well... My Twenty Questions... It was more of an experiment. I came up with twenty simple questions for people to answer. I had help from my buddy Russ Perry. He made a website for me that would receive the answers to the questions. I spammed everyone I could and asked them to go to the site. I was amazed how many responses I received... from old and young... and from all over the globe.



I know we all have our own experiences and thoughts as individuals but I was curious, if faced with the same set of questions, how many of us would answer in the same manner. What I ended up with was completely different than what I expected. It’s always that way, but over time I just forget to expect the unexpected.

I guess you should know a little about the twenty questions that people were asked to respond to. They were written down in my truck on the way to work. I was very surprised to find that total strangers that were receiving my request for answers to a survey were taking time out of their lives to sit down and answer these twenty questions. All twenty questions seem simple on the face but when confronted with them, they are truly reflective and complicated.

Out of all of the patient people that responded to the “My 20 Questions” spam, approximately 60% of people answered all of the questions, Just about 20% answered most of the questions and the remaining spattering of percentages went down and around from there.

It was interesting to find out during the course of collating the information; my e-mail project reached most areas of the United States and some areas beyond. I was therefore pleased to be able to use a material from a variety of global locations.

It was also motivating to note the variations of age groups that participated in my experiment. I was retrieving responses from every age group from twelve years of age to eighty-five. I added several voluntary information survey questions to the website so I could get a feel for who was responding.

I guess the most surprising result was that people would bare their thoughts and experiences to a total stranger. In most cases they did not know who sent the request e-mail, but they took the time to try and answer the questions as truthfully and honestly as possible.

I can honestly say that I truly enjoyed this experiment and am very appreciative to everyone that participated. In the beginning, we called this an experiment in honesty. It was that, but it also allowed everyone that took it seriously to search deep and recall memories of the past and reflect on who they are as individuals. I will show you an example by sharing with you the questions ask to all… and the answers that came to my mind. Just as a matter of interest, I answered the questions myself before I sent out the first e-mail.

I have come to the conclusion that we all have to take time to reflect on where we have been and where we want to go in life. I really believe we need to slow down and reflect a little more and rest in our place in this complicated world. In general, it seems that we are all a bit sentimental toward our loved ones and our family. That gives me a good feeling. I hope it does the same for you.

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed putting it together.


Shannon R Killman

Gravity of Home

Maybe it’s that one crack at the edge of the driveway that I have been looking over my shoulder at for a dozen years… it hasn’t changed as much as I have, but any sign of movement and I will be all over it… it teases me as it hosts random grasses and weeds…

Maybe it’s the crepe myrtle trees that line my driveway… over the years I have watched the paper-like bark peel back in a jigsaw pattern and flake to the ground. They have finally reached the point that they hold hands overhead as the spring winds aid them in their dance…

Maybe it’s the family cat that squints her eyes at me as I walk by her at a leisurely pace… she naps close to the side door of the house so she can be alerted to any action that may arise that would be to her benefit…

Maybe it’s the side door of the house that has shadowed the entry of family and friends for a generation… it has been pulled and pushed upon by the young and by our elders. It has been a swing… a backstop for soccer when no one was looking… it has taken punishment from many and has given bruises and bumps to a few. It has been drilled upon, primed, painted countless times, caulked and re-caulked… and yet it stands as our protector and as our easement…

Maybe it’s the kitchen that has been the center of our home since we first cooked grilled cheese for the first time together… it has been a gathering place for peering eyes… for curious on-lookers… it has been a place to find children under feet… and a vestige of solitude when the pressure cooker has whistled its children’s siren of warning… it has been the playground for cards… jacks… for toss and for tag… it has been the slow simmer of a blessed family roast and the solitude of a boiling pot for a quiet and soothing cup of tea…

Maybe it’s the family room that seems to collect items from every closet and space throughout the house… the games… the toys and clothes… it is the room of togetherness and of solitude… the room of Thanksgiving and of Christmas morning… of Easter baskets and Mother’s day surprises… it is the room of stolen kisses and of secrets… secrets of youth and secrets of innocence…

Maybe it’s the hallway that adorns the photograph that once hung in the home of my grandfather… the picture of the Cat… that Cat… a cat that has seen better days… a picture that my family held and admired for countless years… the picture that I adjust every now and then as it tilts its aging corners to the left or to the right. The memory of my grandfather thrusts itself into my fingertips every time I touch it…

Maybe it’s the bedrooms that have cared for and nurtured my offspring… the rooms of giggles and of laughter… at times the rooms of sorrow and of pain… the rooms filled with treasures and collectibles… the items that make us who we are… who we want to be… and of what we want to remember…

Maybe it‘s the squeak of the hinge of the bathroom door…the texture of the walls… the colors of our lives… the joys of our togetherness… the disappointments and triumphs… the pull I feel no matter where I go… the pull that is like the river to the sea… slow and steady… always focused toward its goal…

Maybe it’s every tree and shrub we have planted, watered, nourished and cared for… maybe it’s the shadows that play chase with the sun against the green grass…

Maybe it’s the dove I hear in the distance that pulls me to my youth… maybe it’s the love I feel from this place… the familiarity that my children feel... or the ease and comfort their friends feel when they are greeted as one of us. There is always laughter… always love… always a meal and a place to rest…

Maybe it’s all of this… maybe it is some of this. The gravity of our home keeps me in tune with the rights of this world and nudges me away from the wrongs… Maybe it is love… Maybe it is life…

Shannon R Killman

Dream House

I have had a crazy day today. I had to go to the apartments and collect for my paper route. Half of the people weren’t home and I was in the halls for three hours. I hope that I can catch everybody else tomorrow.

I rode my bike by the school before I came home. It looked sad and lonely. There wasn’t anybody there today. It is Saturday and I guess the guys are playing in the neighborhood.

The nets in the basketball goals have been replaced. I hope they last longer than the old ones. We hate to play when half of the net is hanging down in the way. We tried to fix one of them the other day after school but it was impossible.

I stopped by the Candy Lady’s house on the way home. She is so nice. I don’t know how she remembers us all. There is no way to get more than one piece of candy per day from her. She is so sweet to all of us. She reminds me of my Grandmother, but she is much older. Today she gave me a caramel.

I finally got home. I know mom is going to ask me to cut the grass. I noticed that it is getting a little shabby. Maybe I’ll cut it tomorrow morning. My cat Too-Too is sleeping in the backyard… She squinted at me when I dropped my bike off in the driveway.

I grabbed a glass of milk and turned on the TV. There was nothing on channel 3 or on channel 10… so I curled up on the couch and fell asleep listening to the birds chirping outside of the window.

I had a crazy dream… I was walking up a driveway with some mail in my hand… but I don’t think it was me… I guess I was my dad, because when I saw my reflection in the window on the way inside of a house, I was all grown up. I looked like my dad...

There were homework papers on the table inside… but it wasn’t my work. There was a load of laundry folded up on the couch… but it wasn’t my laundry. There were pictures of kids on the side tables and on the walls of the hallway… but they weren’t kids in my class. There were stuffed animals in the bedrooms and toys on the floor… but they weren’t my toys. There were beds that were neatly made and posters and pictures on the walls… but they weren’t mine.

The house smelled sweet and clean… the colors on the walls were deep and rich… it felt comfortable… it felt peaceful… there was something familiar about it all… I felt as though I belonged…

I peeked out of the window and noticed that the grass looked a bit shabby… I guess I needed to find a lawn mower and cut the grass. Maybe it could wait until tomorrow morning. I saw a cat napping in the grass next to a bicycle and she squinted at me as I leaned forward to see the details of her face…

I woke up in a blur and tried to remember everything I saw in my dream. I checked my room and saw my posters… my bed… my toys and my clothes. Everything seemed in order… I felt like I belonged… I felt comfortable…

I liked the house of my dream… I hope I can visit again some day… I hope I can feel the same feelings… I hope I can feel like I belong there…


Shannon R Killman

Nights of My Memories

I don’t remember the season… I don’t recall the month or the day… but I cannot forget that moment in time. You walked slightly in front of me… nervously holding your keys as we approached your door…

You stopped and turned to me in the dark and your hair glowed into the heavens… The breeze filled my lungs with the perfume of eternity…

Time stood still as I was drawn to you and the tenderness of your lips fell upon me. A smile forced itself upon my soul and the warmth of humanity rolled across my being into my flesh…

I felt strong and protective as you pulled me close… close and into your heart… I swam in your pulse… I was filled with an emotion that I could not comprehend. I recorded, in my mind, every movement of your eyes… your skin and your soft tender voice…

I wanted nothing more… I needed nothing more… I could not have taken in anymore. Gone, were my youth and my thoughts of anything but you. The breeze that fell across our faces still swirls within my thoughts and cools me in the nights of my memories…


Shannon R Killman

to Err…

Why didn’t I do the things that I needed to do… Why didn’t I say the things that needed to be said… Why didn’t I think the things I needed to think… Why didn’t I pursue the things I needed to find… Why didn’t I smile when I needed to smile… Why didn’t I forgive when I needed to forget… Why didn’t I touch when I needed to touch… Why didn’t I pray when I needed to pray… Why didn’t I cry when I needed a release… Why didn’t I laugh when I needed to laugh… Why didn’t I call when I needed the answers… Why didn’t I rest when I needed to rest… Why didn’t I help when I needed to assist… Why didn’t I listen when I needed to hear… Why didn’t I know when I needed to learn… Why didn’t I look when I needed to see… Why didn’t I succeed when I needed to win… Why didn’t I stop when I needed to quit… Why didn’t I stay when I needed to stay… Why didn’t I care when I needed to care… Why didn't I teach when I was able to share... Why didn’t I love when I was given the opportunity...

Shannon R Killman

Do You Remember

Do you remember our first embrace… the time in eternity that our eyes met and etched the bond that cannot be broken…

Do you remember holding my hand as I began my journey into mobility… along with the bumps and bruises that come with the wobbled beginnings of the starts and stops of life…

Do you remember wiping the tears from my eyes and pulling me close… calming my fears… drawing my pulse to beat in unison with yours… calm and confident…

Do you remember taking my hand on the path to the ball-field… straightening my cap… tucking in my shirt and tending to my shoes… sitting in the bleachers with countless other parents… surrounded by noise… always fixed on my stride… my run… my smile or my disappointment…

Do you remember the confusion in the heart-pulling race I felt when I could not find you in a crowd… the moment of relief when our eyes finally met and your grasp was there to relieve me of my momentary torment…

Do you remember the sacrifice… the hours of sleeplessness… the drain… the tiring trips… the errands of life… the money that flowed like water through your grasp… the doctors visits… the dentist appointments… and always… the encouragement… the smiles and the peace…

Do you remember the countless ballgames… the unnamed gyms… the practices and the tournaments… you were always there… focused on my mood… my play… my emotion… always scanning for eye contact… even from across a crowded stadium…

Do you remember sharing your life… your home… our home… your time… your breath… your comfort… your desires… your selflessness… your years and your eternity… your fears… your joy… your concern… your support and your love…

Do you remember…

I remember…

Shannon R Killman

Aroma of Memories

I smelled a memory smell today…
It is spring and I ride in my Jeep, perhaps a bit early in the season, with the top off…
The neighborhood was quiet and calm in the evening hours…
The wind pulled at my skin like an old friend…
Honeysuckle vines wrapped themselves around every fence and sprig within its grasp…
The aroma of springtime in my youth…
I had to pull over in a quiet street to feel the whispers of my childhood that surrounded my senses…
With every breath, I tasted my innocence…
I tasted the freedom of my new bicycle…
I tasted the touch of my mother as we sat in the freshly manicured lawn in my backyard…
I could feel the warmth of my pajamas that fought with my wet hair from a warm bath…
I heard the giggles of laughter of my friends that engulfed our neighborhood… our world…
I tasted the perfume of my grandmother as she patted my leg and the scruff of my grandfather’s whiskers as he kissed my cheek good-bye…
I could hear the rain that rumbled across the sky outside of my bedroom… my place of safety…
I tasted the sunshine on my face as I caressed my cat as she lay napping by my backdoor…
I seek out these aromas of memories and store them in my mind’s vault…
When I find them, or they find me, I take time to reflect and taste the warmth of my youth and my loved ones…

Shannon R Killman