Looking Back

Lately, as I grow older, I find myself reminiscing more about the past and the many adventures I had when I was young. Back then, when I was a teenager, the years seemed to stick to me like glue. The winters were long and filled with snow. The summers lasted forever, and I remember those days as always being sunny and warm and the nights filled with stars.

Each adventure became a stepping stone to the next one, knowing a greater thrill waited patiently behind each tree, and every dark shadow.

We were once the kings and queens of our separate universes and though our realms were small, they were ours and ours alone. Each day brought some new excitement our way. It might be something as simple as a vine on a tree, perfect for swinging out over rushing water of a stream, or the sheer joy of hearing Del Shannon sing Runaway on a small transistor radio.

I'd like to think that I left a part of me behind in those days. A part of me that still runs free through a summer wind on a cloudless day that might just last forever if I wish it to.

Maybe one day I'll go back. I'll take my wife with me for she once lived nearby, in the next kingdom over. She will smile and nod as I point out the landmarks of my youth and the stories attached to them. She has heard the stories before and will surely hear them again, but she'll let me talk for she knows their meaning to me.

And when I tell these tales of adventures long ago, the time seems to slow and I am once again young, in a summer that may never end.