The days of summer never ended
A full year, it seemed, would pass
Before the big yellow school bus
Would round the corner again
To take me away again
Each day was a new adventure
One long hour stretched into the next
Leaving me time to think about my existence
Look out the window and watch to cars pass
Hear the birds sing and feel the heat sting
Hope for miracles and search for fairies
Dream up unicorns in the jungle of the grass
Build castles out of sand
The possibilities were endless
So was the imagination
So was the time
I never even thought beyond the borders of my small backyard
I never even wondered what was on the other side of the fence
I never even seemed to care
And where has the time gone now?
Why do my days feel shorter?
Have I dared to think beyond the confines of my brain?
Have my thoughts strayed far from the linear path of the clock?
And the part of the mind that had been filled with wonder,
Is it all just gray static now
Letting opportunities to live slip away?
Do I see and hear less?
Or am I just lost to a sight yet unseen
A thought yet unthought
A life yet unlived
Has my imagination morphed into something stronger,
Flirting to close to the edge of reality
Or is it already dead?
Am I lost in a world
That is greater than a sandbox and a swing set
A seesaw and an old pile of bricks?
Does knowing too much force me to feel too little?
Does knowing my harsh reality make me want to escape it?
Why has an entire month gone by
And I can’t even pick out one day
From that big, giant blur my life has become?
Recently, I went on a road trip through Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Delaware (states in the Northeast of the United States, for those who aren’t American) and I had a very great time. I got to see two cities, Philadelphia and Baltimore, that I’ve never seen before, and revisited Georgetown in Washington DC and wallowed in the nostalgia as I walked down the same red brick streets that I walked down when I was eight and ten years old. Each day was filled with something to do, and I would come back to my hotel room each night only to quickly fall asleep. Looking back, I miss always having somewhere to go and something to look at, but I had no time to really think or carefully or observe where I was. Those three days went by in a blur but it was a nice kind of blur: exciting yet calming. Sometimes, not having to think can be great, but when you have to start thinking again, you realize all that you’ve missed, and I really missed too much.