You ever have one of those dreams where you’re not sure if you’re still sleeping or already awake? Your mind racing with morning thoughts for the day. Maybe something you forgot to do the day before. Things you may think about even before your eyes open. That was me this morning.
The Pirate Chest Comes Alive
The wood stayed cold under my hands.
“D-e-w… one hundred,” I whisper, trying to make out the carving without waking Mom. Her room is across the hall. Voices carry.
I wasn’t much of a reader when I was three. Now I’m nine, and I’m curious—like most nine-year-olds are.
It’s still that thin-blue time before the house is really awake. Soon she’ll sing, “Dewey, it’s time to wake up and smell the new day.” Not yet.








