I remember running through cornfields n leaving you in the dust.
I remember playing Annie Annie Over n always throwing too far.
I remember climbing trees n breaking all your limbs.
I remember camping under the stars n not saving you any light.
I remember swimming in lakes n taking all the minnows.
I remember playing hide n go seek in the yard n yelling, “cheater!”
I remember my first roasted marshmallow n not letting you taste.
I remember flipping in the pool while I watched you drown.
I remember making forts n saying, “No boys allowed.”
I remember my first dance n not inviting you.
I remember skiing trips in the wild n never teaching you the bunny slope.
I remember my first drawing on the computer n not hanging it on your fridge.
I remember making time capsules n not putting your picture in them.
I remember birthday parties where I wouldn’t let you play.
I remember family vacations where you weren’t on the ride.
I remember lying to my folks n always blaming you.
I remember unraveling history n not thinking of your future.
I remember cheating on boys without you.
I remember riding bikes downhill with no hands but I wouldn’t take your own.
I remember crying to the moon for a wish that never came true because I never imagined you.
I remember picking daisies n wondering if some other boy loved me.
I remember sledding in the park n knocking you down.
I remember prank calls but I never dialed you.
I remember playing the oujia board n channeling everything dead but you.
I remember playing Robin Hood in the wilderness alone because he never needed anyone.
I remember my first traumatic experience not realizing it foreshadowed your own.
I remember writing to friends but never knowing your address.
I remember experiencing life.
And I was alone.
You were of a different generation. One that didn’t see the light of day or feel nature at its core. You sat inside n accumulated addictions with a stroke of a key as your only comfort.
If I could turn back time.
If I could rescue you.
If I could trade places.
If I could let you experience my childhood.
But I’d rather experience a new one.
I remember ours.