The Blur of My Life

Back then,
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

Back then,
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.

10 thoughts on “The Blur of My Life

  1. Very nostalgic piece. It brought back good memories mixed with a hint of sadness. Seems like we all rush through life at times and fail to savor the little moments.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you. I guess when I was a kid, I didn’t have the whole world at my disposal. I didn’t know what the internet was, I’ve never seen the world beyond the city I lived in. That made everything much simpler, but I guess that made me appreciate all the little moments. My childhood does make me very nostalgic, I wish I knew had to appreciate it back then.

      Liked by 2 people

  2. What a nicely composed piece! It really seems to capture something quite universal for us human beings. At least, I’m determined to think so. I think the great majority of people view their childhood with some sentimentality and longing for that simple, blissful incompetence which filled out those timeless, blurry childhood years.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you! And yes, I think it’s pretty universal for people to remember their childhood with nostalgia. I really miss those days when I had nothing to do with my time and when my comprehension of the world barely extended beyond the neighborhood in which I lived. I wish I hadn’t been so eager to grow up, I wish I could have appreciated my childhood. but now, all I can really do now is reminisce.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. I guess playfulness also includes retaining that sense of imagination that comes with being a child. Children know very little about the world, so it is up to their vivid imaginations to extrapolate into the unknown. As we get older and know more about the world, our sense of imagination decreases and so does our sense of wonder about the world. How can we get it all back?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. That is an excellent question, Kat! But not one I don’t know much about. Playfulness — that’s something I have enough on my hands with. But recovering a childlike imagination? Not something I’ve either studied or thought much about.

        What would you say, though? What can we do to recapture that imagination?

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I think we all need to realize that there is so much more about our world that we do not know yet: that science has not been able to explain, which includes areas like quantum physics and parallel universes, and whether or not we live in a simulation. We also need to be aware of the philosophical questions about human life that place it into a greater level of uncertainty. Realizing this magnitude of the unknown should open our eyes to the complacency we in, and make us question the meaning of our existence. This surely should also open up our imaginations. This is something I am working on, actually.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. It’s always good to meet a fellow observer (my blog is called The Observation Post) of the human scene in all its mixed baggedness (sometimes only an invented word will do, when even a thesaurus isn’t up to the task).

    As for your poem and your post, they’re definitely not a mixed bag, which I appreciate because it saves me the trouble of inventing another new word. And speaking of new, nostalgia is nothing new to this old geezer (how old am I? Let’s just say that, comparatively, Methuselah was a young whippersnapper). By sheerest coincidence, I recently (July 18) published a post on the subject titled THE WAY WE WEREN’T. I cordially invite you, if you feel so inclined, to pay it a visit….and if you care to comment, old words would be altogether adequate, appropriate, and appreciated.

    Liked by 1 person

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