Remember the times when we would lose ourselves in the forest. Going in deeper and deeper, the trees growing taller and taller. The bushes were so green, and they just kept getting thicker. We found a vine hanging from a high up branch and we swung back and forth for hours, playing jungle warriors and crying out like Tarzan. We raced up and down the climbing trees, always trying to do better then the other. We walked barefoot in the mossy areas, feeling the coolness and softness squish beneath our toes.
Remember swimming in the pool for hours on end, playing mermaids and undersea explorers. Our fingers and toes would be wrinkled beyond belief, but it didn’t matter, because there was still some light, and we hadn’t been called in for dinner or bed just yet. Practising our hand stands and somersaults until our noses and eyes burnt from the chlorine and we were dizzy beyond belief. Jumping off the diving board in every form imaginable, our ears plugged with water, our lungs would ache from the contests to see who could hold their breath the longest.
What about the day we spent in the hayfield? The plough had just come through and the scent of the freshly cut hay was still fresh in the air. They hadn’t come to collect the hay barrels yet, instead, they had left them all lined up in rows by the side of the field. We climbed up on them, and we ran and jumped and raced from barrel to barrel, playing tag and hopscotch and whatever else we could imagine. It didn’t matter how rough the hay was, or how scratched we got when we slipped in between the barrels; we were once again lost in our own little world.
I miss that world. I miss the way we were and the times we shared. That world is gone now, and it’s been gone for a long time. I’m afraid we don’t know how to find our way back again. I’m afraid we will never be able to find a way back.
We have our own separate worlds now, and although they are just a few feet away, they may as well be miles apart. It’s not by choice, I don’t think. It’s just a part of our growing up.
Once and a while, we find a hidden path into each others world, but it only lasts a short time, and then the path closes us off once more.
Can you remember when we used to stand in the backyard and spin and spin and spin until we fell down? And then we would lie there, staring up at a swirling sky, fluffy white clouds going around and around amidst the bright blue.
Remember how we would giggle and our hearts would race, our breath would quicken, but it didn't matter, because as soon as the world stopped spinning, we were on our feet again, going around and around, faster then before, longer then before, our heads thrown back in laughter, anything to get that sensation back.
I remember.
I'll always remember, and sometimes late at night, I slip out into the back yard and I spin. I spin and spin. Faster and faster, until my legs won't hold me up any longer and I fall down. I lay back and watch as the starry nights sky becomes a blur of tiny swirling white dots in a black abyss. And when the swirling stops, I’m on my feet, spinning once again, trying to get that sensation back again.
I remember. I will always remember.
