Late one night this winter, I was feeling nostalgic and irrational; I flipped on the light and scribbled down what I thought. We paint the past in such bright, beautiful colors, and forget that it was the present when it happened, and that we have no less reason to be happy now than we did then. Fickle humanity.
Sometimes I miss my childhood. . .
. . . when Wal-Mart was an incalculably cavernous labyrinth to wander through;
. . . when a journey of three hours seemed more like three lifetimes;
. . . when a rickety metal swing set and some sunshine was all I needed to be happy all afternoon;
. . . when macaroni was exciting, popsicles were exhilarating, and a trip to Baskin Robbins was ecstasy itself;
. . . when the basement was genuinely scary, because I really thought the Grinch lived down there;
. . . when watching Cruella DeVille while hanging upside down from the couch was hilarious every single time;
. . . when running in aimless circles on the lawn was normal, when sitting on laps was expected, and when bedtime stories were the law;
. . . when the world was big, and I was small, and I knew it, and was happy.
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consider that this day ne'er dawns again. ~dante
3 comments:
This may be my favorite yet!
T... you are a blessing to me!
oh, and feel free to leave long comments ANYtime! I revel in them!
love this...
I know what you mean. I often miss being young and carefree. It is interesting how as we get older, we tend to let our growing responsibilities weigh us down with worry, instead of realizing that it is all in God's hands.
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