When we were young, we knew the rush of a cold air conditioning unit drowning out the heat of a scorching day. And we loved the feel of the half-silt, half-sand bottom of the lake between our toes. We felt the plush of a moss bed and let our fingers memorize its depth. We knew the fear of diving down and touching bottom, and of peeking at the sun. Now we are old, and with every passing day sense our losses rushing past us. We enter and exit buildings all day, and lie in bed trying to remember the temperature outside. I no longer know the feel of my kitten’s ears, and will never be able to find it again. And as life goes on, I long for little more than to recall the feeling of the water around me, and how my legs swung slowly in the deep.