“Ridley’s Daydreams,” Friend, July 1995, 18–19
Ridley could be anything she wanted to be. Everyone said so. And so she was.
On mist-filled mornings when dark clouds filled the sky, Ridley became the captain of a ship. She stood in the crow’s nest and scanned the horizon, always on the lookout for dragons who wanted to steal her treasure. Sometimes she sailed to where she could watch dolphins and whales play in the waves.
On hot, humid days when the sun was as yellow as a field of dandelions, Ridley became an astronaut, swooping in her spaceship past Saturn’s rings on her way to Pluto. Sometimes she flew around Earth and shared her picnic lunch with the man in the moon.
When the days were cool and the sun hid behind clouds as big as balloons, Ridley became an explorer. She pushed her way through dark, dangerous jungles. One time she discovered the great pyramid of a long forgotten king. Sometimes she stayed close to home and explored caverns deep inside the earth and climbed over rocks as big as a house.
On windy days when the sun dipped low in the sky and the leaves in the yard played tag, Ridley became an airplane pilot. She zoomed over treetops and helped fire fighters put out forest fires. Sometimes she was a storm watcher and flew into the eye of a hurricane so that she could let everyone know how big the storm was.
Ridley could be anything she wanted to be. Everyone said so. And so she was. And at the end of the day, when the sun slipped out of sight, Ridley was very tired. She didn’t want to be an explorer, an astronaut, or even the captain of a ship anymore. She just wanted to be herself. So while the stars twinkled in the night sky, she said her prayers, kissed Mama good night, and fell fast asleep.