What Do I Want

I've been pondering the question ask of me by my high-school guidance councilor many years ago: "What do you want out of life?" When you are 16, it is near impossible to even know what life has to offer, much less to be able to choose specific components that will make up yours. When I responded, "I don't know, whatta you have to offer?", he told me to go back to class and, then he wrote "waste management assistant" in my file. In my "permanent file," the one I was sure would follow me throughout my adulthood. I needn't have worried; adulthood has yet to arrive.
But the years still pass, and eventually I suppose I'll have to decide what I want out of life before I run out of it. The older you get, I think the first thing you want out of life is…more life. I've known a few people who were ready to go, but not many. Life is habit forming, and it is a bitch to quit.
Life has been pretty good to me, and there's not much I want that I haven't gotten. There are, of course, very personal things I would like to change, but I can live with the results.
I want a mounted buffalo head. I don't want anyone to go out and kill a buffalo to get me one, an old ratty one will do. When I was 12, I wanted a buffalo for Christmas. I badgered my parents for months, telling them that if I had a buffalo head, I'd never want anything again--ever. Christmas came, and I opened a brightly wrapped box, and inside was a plastic buffalo head. Plastic! Jeez, I was disappointed.
I'd like to opportunity to apologize to Marilyn Beaner for saying she had cooties in the 5th grade. I still feel real about that.
I want my children to live happy and productive lives. They are well on their way to accomplishing that.
I want to be more than I am, but less than perfect.
I want to spend my love and save my pity.
I have a lot of knowledge, so now I would like more understanding.