The Past

What do you want to be when you grow up? 

Happy. I want to be happy. There's too much sadness in this world and not enough apple pies, and I don't know who decided on that ratio but whoever did needs to rethink their life.

I want the sunshine to color my hair yellow. I want the summer back--the one where no one was looking for me. I want life to find me.

I've been told not to cry because it's over, but to smile because it happened. I'm trying, love. 

Our game of hide-and-seek is coming to a close. I'm getting better at finding you, and you're all out of excuses.

I stopped inviting nostalgia to my family get-togethers years ago. We would stare each other in the eye, and words would evaporate. I know you were expecting me to be the same person, but I could never be that person again. I'm what you would call a mulit-faceted character now.

We went our separate ways, and you were no longer the boy that smiled at everything (even the sad parts).

If you ever start thinking that these desks are too big--that they were made for bigger kids than me and you--I'll be waiting. And if you ever start thinking that no one loves you, stop. I'll be there in a few minutes.