What Did You Look Forward to the Most as a Child"

Closing my eyes, breathing slowly, I can see snapshot pictures I reach for and wonder: Was that it? My life?

In elementary school, break-time meant a container of milk and half a graham cracker. I would carefully nibble the edges, shaping it into a gun. Other times I arrived late to class after lunch, having stayed on the playground simply to enjoy the solitude.

In junior high, lunch was the best part of the day: an open-faced roast beef sandwich, mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, a dinner roll spread with real butter, and a cold container of milk. My space. My time. Undisturbed.

In high school, I leaned against the flagpole alone — a sub, a Baby Ruth bar, and a container of cold milk — watching other students jog around the track.

In college, I ate under the bleachers. A Baby Ruth. A container of milk. Alone. Every day.

I am writing a novella called My Life Under the Bleachers — a story, perhaps, never to be read.

In these moments, I felt content. I existed exactly where I wanted to be. It felt entirely natural.

Looking back, I wonder why. Something in my DNA? My upbringing? I resented the labels that followed me — introvert, well-behaved, he can entertain himself for hours — as though solitude were a diagnosis rather than a disposition.

A podcast host I follow always closes with the same question: "If you had the chance, would you relive your life?"

Every time I think: What a ridiculous question.

I realize this reflection sounds somber. But as an adult, I am grateful for each morning I wake up — for my wife, our home, retirement, lifelong learning, good books, afternoon naps, and the freedom to dawdle in my underwear. Now if only more people would visit my website and click the damn like button once in a while: keithemaynard.com.