When wrinkles ambush our cheeks and forehead
And the skin loosens on our hands
And blue-green veins show through our transparently white skin
We will remember
When we stole Mom’s car and withstood months of torture
And snuck into the neighbor’s backyard to go skinny-dipping at midnight
And slid down the stairs in our new pillowcases disregarding parents’ protests
Not knowing that we were making memories
For when we sit on the porch
With our old legs dangling from rocking chairs
And our aged faces soaking in western sunlight
Reminiscing about
When we jumped out of a plane at 30,000 feet
And bungee-jumped out of a helicopter over Victoria Falls
And found our feet in sunny California
When we got older