Queen for a Day

As my first act as Queen, for one day I would command that

Shelter doors would open and each orphan, hard luck kid, lost dog, unwanted mother cat with kittens, and runaway would find someone standing there to welcome them home. Others too.

Amnesty would be declared in the land for those who are innocent, confused, have overdue books, owe money in third world countries, couldn’t read or speak English but still tried to assimilate, hard workers who were rif-ed, the simple, grandiose and delusional dreamers.

SUVs would gladly be auctioned by owners who would share the profit with their neighbors who need a car or a new pair of shoes, while finding a cleaner alternative for their own family--up and down each block, each town, each state, each province. I would expect my people to be creative in their zeal to clean up after themselves, sow new seeds and remember to leave the place cleaner than they found it.

Little children, older people, those who returned from wars, mentally infirm, challenged and forgotten, and all the sick would be given what they need and these gifts would be distributed by all my strong, brave-hearted people. Some would set the table and some would cook and everyone would eat together, just once. Just a reminder: no animals would be eaten, the Queen is a vegetarian. One long table with cushions, chairs, mats and plenty of clean water for everyone to wash down the generous helpings. No one would go away hungry or thirsty. And I would be a handing out doggie bags for everyone to take home.

All people would be required to look up from their burdens, give thanks in their own way to their Creator then turn around seeking their place in the fabric of the planet. Gold threads would be considered as important as the hands that move the shuttle.

Relief would show in my people’s eyes, smiles would be broad, shy, toothless, hair-lipped or capped. For one day my people could feel safe, free, hopeful, refreshed and encouraged. All creatures would live another day.

A Queen can dream, can’t she?

You can read other dreamer's ideas here at Sunday Scribblings.