When I Was Young

June 20, 2011
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When I was young I would run out to the woods.
Excitedly tripping over my feet as I ran.
Over cracking soil and jutting roots
Too tall trees for a child.
They looked like giants from down here.
Way down on the ground in my own Earth.
Not much else mattered to me while I would run.
I’d look up and see the yellow specs of light peaking from behind leaves.
Squinting, I’d smile and realize I was home.
I’d sit down by the secret swing I found one day while exploring.
I’d fling myself onto it like it was my old friend.
“Blast off!” I’d cry as a kicked higher and higher off the ground.
The birds were singing and the air was swirling around me.
I could smell the Oaks and the decomposing dirt.
The musty smell of morning air.
The colors of the flowers unfold in a blanket below me.
I’d laugh and sing and soar though the air.
Hours and hours I would sit on that swing.
Until I heard the cry of my mother calling me home.
I quickly jumped off my old friend the swing; feeling like an Olympic athlete as I landed the jump.
Again I ran... over the cracked soil and jutting roots.
I arrived home; back in reality.
As I grew, I forgot about my swing.
My faithful friend tucked away in the wood.
I aged and aged.
Grew older and moved away.
Moved far away from home.
I began to feel lost.
I quit my job.
I lost my wife.
I visited home.
“Mother, what do I do?”
“Relax, my child, let loose.”
“How could I possibly relax in times like these?”
I bowed my head and began to sob.
My mother walked out of the room and back in again.
She dropped something on the table.
A pair of old, muddy boots.
At once I was lifted.
The cogs in my head began to spin again ad I strapped on the boots.
I felt the familiar rush as I ran out the door.
I was headed to the woods.
I reached the edge of the wood and inhaled.
The familiar scent greeted me.
I tripped over my feet again as I ran.
Over cracked soil and jutting roots.
The trees a lot smaller than I could remember.
But still magnificent.
Not much else mattered at this moment, while I ran.
I looked up and saw the yellow specs of sunlight again.
And there it was,
My swing.
My old friend.
I sat down… and remembered.
When I was a child.
I kicked off.
“Blast off.” I said
I realized I was home.

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