Tomorrow I’m taking a trip and going to a pool I frequented as a child with days filled of handstands. It’s summer…memories old and new, water, laughter, and smiles.
Life speeds by and before we know it, we’re looking back more often than looking ahead. Somehow, I feel like these thoughts should be happening thirty years from now, rather than at the age of thirty-three*. I wonder why at the moment does it seem insignificant, but looking back it is exactly what I long for? Why is there a desire to capture the simple things, but a hesitation to establish or recognize new ones? Perhaps that is the beauty in it all, random events versus forced. The lack of simplicity coupled with escalating complexity has created a silent discontent within my own life. Finding the brake to slow this ride eludes me. Occasionally, there is a lull, but the momentum quickly builds, leaving me scrambling once again seeking the eventual stop I know is out there.
As a child, everyday normal to even boring events seemed to be a…
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