who knew our version of poetry starts with ‘be me’
I yearn for the time when I was a kid. I yearn for the time when the right side of my body functioned almost as good as the left. I yearn to be picked up by my dad, to sneak chocolate chips out of the baking cupboard instead of just buying the damn things from the store. I yearn for my birthday to be an event with gifts and a day I’d anticipate two weeks in advance, instead of remembering I missed it again the following morning, after having spent my birthday at work. I yearn for summers off and I yearn for fifty dollars to be a lot of money with no responsibility.
I yearn for time.
I’m a bit older than this and I’ve been feeling this too. Getting older is weird.
It really hits when kids you knew when you were an adult are now adults. That, and when you start thinking ahead. 10 years from now, my mom will be 75…
My mum is 75. She occasionally talks about when she’s gonna be dead. I keep having the instinctual reaction that it’s silly to talk like that, like a mother can just die, as if that is in any way acceptable.
