Remember when we were young and in grade school?
Hard bug bites littered our skin,
baked in the remembrance of summers past.
We burnt ants by the swings and chased friends on our knees,
pulling out mulch as we cringed.  
There was no notion of the impending ocean of responsibility that waited for us on the other side.
Work.
Bills.
Lies.
Everything that pries at the happiness of the status quo.

But when we were young and in grade school,
fall came and went with no stress as Halloween dressed us in imagination.
I couldn’t tell you how many times I tripped over Samuel Street,
the rocky brick pathways ripping my costume at my feet.
Mother screamed,
I cried,
and we spent the night in silence.
I was a jester that year, I remember.
The cold air pierced our lungs,
scraping my throat with every breath.
But that never kept me from candy.

When we were young and in grade school,
Elmer glue peeled from our finger tips like snakes shedding skin.  
On weekends, chalked dried and cracked these same fingers longing for the
sweating,
cool bedding,
and blessing of summer swims.
But it was gone for the year and we feared as though we wouldn’t live to see it on the other side,
The smell of sunscreen
And taste of cherry ice cream faded fast.
To make it last we told stories over Christmas dinner of
s’mores,
bruises, sores,  
and rusting swing doors
on Grandma’s back porch.

But today, we are not young.
We grew up,
married,
had two daughters, and a son.
Our lives drag on in perpetual mediocrity.
Not a pirate,
Nor an astronaut,
Or a star on TV.