We sail through our youth, impatient at the pace. The pace of time, not fast enough for small hands and gangly limbs. Bruised knees, grass stains on jeans, sticky fingers, with residue jam, long ago eaten.
Partake of the sweet innocence, running headfirst at the clock that seems to be ticking so slowly. We swing higher on the swings…up…up…up. Higher, let’s go higher. There’s more than our immediate surroundings, there’s so much more.
Definitively walking with a purpose, an adolescent swagger, youth is for the others. The others who don’t know what it’s like. Friendships, make or break, life or death, double dare you, though I don’t mean it. What happens on the blacktop, secrets shared, the trivial forgotten.
Because youth, in its essence, is a mirage. We believe in pinky swears, but want something stronger. We want to be older, better. Not so awkward, not so clumsy. But before the bell rings, before the sound of pencil hitting paper, let’s dream of our youth.
Let’s look back fondly on pigtails and heads-up 7-up, because this time, this time we will never get back. We fly through our childhood at breakneck speed, paying no attention to the stop signs, briefly resting at caution signs, but getting right back up to leave our youth behind. Running faster and faster, till your chest hurts, and butterflies feel like they are multiplying in your stomach.
We sail through our youth… because it’s easier.
We sail through our youth… because the alternative is something not to consider.
We sail through our youth… because we promised we would.