The best and worst of time.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of time. When choices were as uncomplicated as deciding between a piece of cake or a cone of ice cream. Indeed, it was a time that brought new meaning to the notion of fun and folly. You know growing up is all part of the circle of life or so we learned at age three from The Lion King. Time flies when you’re having fun, at least that’s what my mom always says. I think she’s just trying to make me feel better about blowing my load in less than a minute or two.
I remember being four years old and picking daisies on a cloudy day was my favorite thing to do. I’ll bring them home and wait for them to wilt and when they started to fall out, I would lay them between the pages of my favorite bedtime book. I don’t seem to care it might leave yellow stains, at all. I remember going on a grocery shopping, I would randomly pick everything mainly those colorful candies, chocolate bars and cry over those planters cheez balls can. I remember spending Sundays going out for a quick family picnic and stroll in a park or watch a movie and eat at our favorite restaurant. Those bike races after school in full white uniforms; hide and seek with friends on Saturday afternoons. My day started at like 6am, naturally, because I was this crazy nocturnal creature. A mid-day nap is a part of my daily routine, ninety minutes of “me” time between the exhausting activities of constructing Lego palaces and watching cartoons on cable. Everything just signified a day of innocence and blithe.
I remember being eight years old and school camping was the fondest memories I have. Just played all day and no one tried for a second to stop anyone. Making bead necklaces and face painting as if we’re fairies was a real fun. Setting up tents would be one of the hardest thing ever myself did. We’d roast marshmallows around the campfire and stay up all night telling ghost stories and interacting with other seem to come naturally to everyone. It was bliss. I remember those tasty snacks mom would do after the long day I’ve spent outside and feeling the weightlessness of having literally no responsibilities aside from those scars and bruises that would hurt during shower time, it was a bittersweet aftermath. I remember my favorite beat puts me in a blissful stupor without being ashamed, that’s probably those times I would think I was never a born dancer. I could never forget the magic of one glass of milk before going to bed that would simply soothe my gentle young soul.
I remember being fourteen and I missed the way summer used to feel like an eternity. It stretched out before I could not longer conceive of it being over. When I went back to school I’d be a bit taller and all my mates would too. They’d all just look a little bit different and have a lot of stories but all seemed so far off, like it would never happen, because summer lasts forever. I had a different perception of time; summer, school, they were all separate events, summer looks more real but it no longer seemed as a break but as a continuous flow of time — I couldn’t see it as discretely as before. That’s when I knew my childhood was over.
Today I’m twenty and I just wish I could take a single memory and blow it up into a bubble and live inside it forever.