Paved Paradise

January 10, 2012
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When I was young in a paved paradise, everything I could think up existed. The pavement was a blank slate for my wildest fantasies. My childhood cul de sac was a magical forest, a baseball field, or even the moon. I saved the world like a super hero, and sailed around as a pirate. The sun blazed on through the endless days as I was Pocahontas. Not once did someone tell me to stop.

When I was young in a paved paradise, my dreams could come true. Nothing was out of reach or even make believe. With the black asphalt beneath my feet I was a rock star. I sang to millions in my tone deft, untrained, tiny voice. I could do anything I wanted to do in that empty space of a street, because that space became my imagination, and my imagination was endless.

When I was young in a paved paradise, I had eternal youth. Everyday passed slowly, and I didn’t have a care in the world. It didn’t matter what the weather was. Rain created puddles to jump in. Snow was an endless amount of joy that could be molded into a snowman friend, or create an angel just my size. Sun created a million possibilities. With my trusty side kick of hot tar under my pink velcro Sketchers I was never going to grow up. Those were the days when the weather came and went, and I didn’t know why, and I didn’t care why.

As the sun rose and fell I got to experience everything. No one told me that I couldn’t achieve each and every dream. Those were the days when my feet went bare, and pink was the most amazing color ever. I didn’t need to achieve everything I dreamed of, but I needed to know that it was all possible. To know that one day the adventures I took could be real. My paved paradise gave me hope.





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