I REMEMBER.

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.

Always alone.

Without you.

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.

I would.

But I’d rather experience a new one.

Ours.

Together.

I remember ours.

 

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