When we were younger, we woke up each day excited for new adventures. We’d throw our feet onto our bedroom floors. We’d hurry to the bathroom to prepare for the day ahead. Two minutes is what the doctor recommended, but we didn’t have that kind of time to waste; there was more to life than brushing our teeth properly. We were washed up and out the door.
Our friends down the block awaited our knock. They were washed up and ready to explore. We lived in small towns but we had visions of big days ahead; all we had to do was get out there. At the knock, they’d throw on their shoes, yell for approval, and meet you on the porch. Planning was cheap. Ideas were plentiful. Imaginations were broad. Time seemed infinite. Soon enough enough, the plans were set and the porch was a distant memory.
The largest home of the most lenient soccer moms were our head quarters. The town was the bounds of our journeys. The streets were our paths, and the neighbor’s yards were our crossroads. Within reach, where we went was up to us. There wasn’t absolute novelty to our explorations, but they were novel to us.
The bushes, court yards, store fronts, tracks and fields provided infinite utility to our plans. We could jump over, crawl under, run around, hide behind, and loiter before them all. Our only limitations were sunlight and our body’s ability to convert food into long lasting energy. We could do anything but only so many things. When energies ran low, we set our sights on HQ.
Back at HQ, a long day was behind us, but that didn’t always mean it was time to disperse. There was still time to remember the day. Our adventures provided us ample resources for a memory trip. We could gather round and laugh about the fun, risky, and stupid things we did. These were the times used for brainstorming our next day’s adventures. We had done so much in a day, and we couldn’t wait to do it all again.
When the time came, we each made our way back to our beds. Rest was a mandate enforced by our adolescent bodies. We knew there was much to look forward to on the other side of the night. The morning would come again, and we’d have a whole new day of adventures.
Our youth was fleeting, but it was too late when it crossed our minds. We had our days to write our tales. Soon came a time when all we had were stories of our youth and days we wish we could relive.