Saturday, June 29, 2013

Street Light

I rode my bike this afternoon and I felt a rush of memories from my childhood. It was a foggy, muggy summer day and it looked just like a day when my friend Andy would visit. There was a medium-sized corn field behind my house with a dense forest just beyond it. Inside the forest were motorcycle trails and unlimited places for two 10 year olds to start a fort.

Our forts were like castles in our minds; to us there was an intricate and detailed layout complete with our own bathroom (for "number one" so we didn't have to come running home every ten minutes). We whittled sticks to make fencing and tried on numerous occasions to make a bow and arrow with sticks and a vine... unsuccessful, but we thought that if the stick flew five feet, then it was the real thing.

Thinking about all of this reminded me of how little we thought of time. We only thought about when we had to be back home for lunch and dreaded the street lights because that meant the end of our day exploring the woods.

If only being an adult had just a hint of a child's sense of time; we look days, weeks, and years ahead instead of what's going on in front of us. This is why time goes by so fast.

Today is not unlike when I was ten. Sara and I wake up everyday to build our fort and explore the very thick forest all around us; and when the street lights come on, we head home and end our day together.

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