When I was young I was forever. Caught in the world of long legs and thin arms and knobby knees. Locked in shifting dapples in the apple trees I climbed and the gardens I ran in. I ran and ran, never tired or grew short of breath. I could last for days in sunshine and tree limbs. Squander clear sharp nights under bright-eyed constellations.
"Ah, the arrogance of youth," they say. Only those that forget abandonment pour out words like that. To spend every day in the moment, a butterfly on a flower more fascinating than any dream of the future. Making worlds in my head more real than anything I could touch or taste or see. Oh god what I'd give to get lost in the sky again.
Now I trudge in the sidewalks and stores, life being swallowed whole by constant need and want and the requirements of an Adult Life. Months no more than a flash in my mind. Time gets twisted in my memory and fogged over. I concentrate on the simple pleasures of a shared smile, a cold drink, a found coin on the street. I have become a womanchild, refusing to grow old, but maturing faster than the sound barrier. I can't hear my past screaming at me to come back.
I could get lost in this world, but instead I follow the wind and blow away with the flowers. Next life I will come back as a seed.