Millionaire

"Someday, Mom, when I am super-rich - a millionaire, you know - I will buy you anything you want," Brad stated a few years back, out of the blue. I guess he was imagining his future. His rich future. I knew immediately what I'd ask for.....

When I returned here, to California, after my six weeks in Arkansas, I remembered the beaches. I love the Pacific beaches.

Half Moon. Pebble. Pfeiffer. Arroyo Burro. Malibu. Santa Monica. Venice. Huntington. Newport. Corona Del Mar. Laguna. Carlsbad. San Clemente. Oceanside. Encinitas. Mission. And so many more.

And the two islands work for me too: Catalina and Balboa.

The ocean, the roar of the waves, the seemingly healthy life-style, the serenity, the sand, the seagulls, the houses - big and small - the little shops in the beachy towns, the boats, the surfers, the pier, the fisher-people, and the smell of the salty breeze. All these reasons alter my mood to a most relaxed state. Everything is right with the world when I am surrounded by beach life.

Around the time Brad told me he'd buy me my heart's desire he told me how when he grew up he was going to be successful; specifically financially successful. "I am going to live in a mansion. I will have people cleaning it for me. I will have as many cars as I want. I will have a movie theater. A snack bar. A bowling alley. A Skateboard park. My pool will be huge, in the shape of my name..."

"Wow! That's awesome!" I exclaimed, when he finished naming a millionaire more things he'd want.

Of course, the mom in me had to ensure that along with all those material things, when he had the time to choose a wife to share it all with.....

"Make sure she loves you for who you are, not for what you have," I humbly told him.

"Well, how will I know if a girl likes me, for me?" he asked, very interested. "I mean, how do I know it's not my money she wants?"

"When you meet a girl you like, someone you really would consider as a wife, do not let her know how wealthy you are. Just don't talk about it, and don't take her to your home."

"Ah," he responded. "Good idea."

"That way," I continued, "she will like you. Then when you both know you are the one for each other, surprise her. Tell her you are a millionaire."

Brad nodded his head. Up. Down. Slowly.

It must have been only a few days later when Brad asked what I would like him to buy me, when he was a millionaire.....

Without hesitation I happily said, "A beach house. Nothing big, just a place where I can sit, look out the window, and see the ocean in my front yard. Far enough away from the water so I can have a grassy yard with a walkway to the door; surrounded by a little white picket fence. A cozy place. I want to hear the water, and see it too."

"Oh, that sounds nice. Okay. I will buy you a beach house. Better yet, I will buy you a beach house on your own island," he said, so certain he would someday make my dream come true.

Rudy had been sitting in the other room when he overheard our conversation, and asked, "What about me? What will you give me?"

"A Range Rover."

"A Range Rover? Why?"

"Well, that is the car you wish you had, right? A black one?"

"Yeah.

"That's why. That is what you wish you had." Brad said. He was serious. A serious 9 or 10 year old kid.

If Brad does become a millionaire, I would be a proud mom, seeing an accomplishment of a life-long nonchalant oh - it will happen attitude come true.

I just hope the beach house he purchases me will be big enough to accommodate him and his family for all the visits they will make.

And, of course, Rudy's Range Rover, hopefully, will do well driving along our sandy front yard and beyond.