I remember simpler times

I remember running through the fresh cut grass, barefoot and carefree

I remember coming in for dinner with chalk-stained hands and grass-stained feet

I remember racing around the neighborhood on bikes and scooters, the pavement a blurred path in a moment of blissful freedom

I remember the burn of skinning my knee on the pavement and the ache of banging a scooter against my ankle

I remember the sharp splinters from the old deck, and the blisters from the monkey bars

I remember the sounds of the wood creaking on my old playscape

I remember fairy houses and mudpies

I remember inchworms and anthills

I remember inventing new imaginative games, and arguments over the rules ending in hot salty tears

I remember countless summer lemonade stands and the the clanking of quarters and scent of metal on my fingers

I remember sprinklers and water balloons, hoses and water guns

I remember dancing under a dark sky full of stars, ignoring the pleas to come in for the night

I forget when we all grew up and stopped playing outside