The Playground of Memory

Rewind me back to the infantile youth days, where sugar was my sustenance and TV came with warnings not to sit to close (ere spoil my eyes). Where I never listened to anything at all, and Saturday morning cartoons were complete and utter euphoria. Waking up to bagels and juice, loving the weekend and its absence from school, I’m aching even eighteen years later to understand how life was so simple. Those school bus rides home were a world unto themselves; filled with the promise of afternoon snacks and general child chatter of the latest craze. I’m losing each second in reverse, mitosis rescinding me backwards as every cell aches to be 3ft tall and yearning for buck teeth tooth fairy souvenirs. Days where sleep was an actual burden from the joy of living, of actually playing around all day---everyday for the sure excitement of being alive. Turn back the dial to the fairy tales of it all. Holiday’s, birthdays, celebrations that were vibrant parades exploding through your veins, to that wild beating young rascally heart. It makes me sadder than I can ever comprehend that I never get to go back, and more so that I never realized how beautiful it was.