Those Day by D.K. Daniels
Those Days
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***
Those Days
D.K. Daniels
I miss those days.
The days of childlike wonder, impermeable fear and mystic joy.
When the air smelt humid and felt clammy. The sun burning at my nape and when my hair was as hot as a hob. The exquisite thrill of a chase, and fuelled primarily from fries and a burger. When Santa Clause was real; when the tooth fairy gave gifts, and the Easter bunny dropped off chocolate. Halloween was so much more, and back to school meant early shivering starts. The excitement of a new video game, or playing with a new toy.
In summer, I'd pedal on my bike to the corner store to buy a slush puppy. How the icy touch was perfect in my sweaty hands. Or the struggle to free an ice pop from its plastic jacket; where I'd suck and slurp at the flavoured snack to rehydrate.
Sprinting, dashing with vigorous pace, the step so young, so swift. Precipitation curdling from a single tendril, before dropping to my damp t-shirt. Green soaked cotton shorts at the knees. Skinned and grazed arms and legs. An abundance of scrapes and bruises on the shin bones, beat-up sneakers and untied laces.
With a group of boys and girls each following in my footsteps. I'd hike with a long twig in hand, beating at grass either side of a cowpath, carefully avoiding nettles. Friends are all around, each stained by the glorious summer months. I'd look to my arm, it is tanned, and freckles are more abundant.
Not far, all of us will undress and jump into a murky pond to splash and horse around in cold water. Followed by dragging along the muddy bank where I'd lay in the sunlight on naked grass. Blades stuck to the skin. Yet, all the same, I dried back and front as the sun slipped away.
In the crook of time I'd chat with my friends about silly things; about humorous things, about adventures to the funfair, how I climbed that tree last month, and crushes.
Somehow, I'll remember my Mam distastefully say, "the state of you. Can't keep you clean at all."
She'd come at me with a cloth and proceed to wipe my face and hands for lunch.
My father would labour around doing odd jobs and dutifully while mowing says, "it's fine... at least he is enjoying himself."
After lunch, I'd rush back out, playing chase, participating in childish dares to kiss a girl. I'd spend all evening in the warm mist until streetlights told me it was time to head home.
I wish the days when I did the paper route, played football, smashed windows in that abandoned building by the quarry, and solved the infamous Rubik cube. Late nights past curfew was the rage, and burning eyeballs gaming after 3 AM.
I miss those days of the summer blockbusters; late-night horror marathons with my bestie and me hiding under the blankets. The days when sleepovers ruled and snow days were cool. Or the day my brother teased me, locked me in the bathroom cupboard, and wouldn't let me tag along with him. When magic was wow... and pirates were awesome. Dressing up in my mothers' clothes; being forced to participate in a husband and wife duo by a neighbourhood girl. Learning to roller-skate, being the first in a potato and spoon race. The joys of getting your first fish, first dog, first hurl, and little tummy aches.
There are so many fond memories, I just wish I could rewind to those days...
* * *
In my teenage years I'd hang around with different groups, I'd say I'm trying to find my place in this world, as an excuse to account for rowdy behaviour.
My interest in movies and music grows exponentially, I no longer love that babyish TV show, and it is now I comprehend I am growing.
I'll attend my first big concert, and the electricity floods throughout my veins, captivating me in a way I never knew could be suspected.
I'll mess around with others to sexually explore. I'll experience love for the first time. Puppy love is a rare commodity... keep it... protect it... cherish it.
My heart breaks reflecting on the past; the butterflies, the caterpillars. Swinging from trees, swatting away wasps and flies. Catching fireflies in jam jars. Watching the season change and dandelions blossom. Packing off to scouts and learning to ride a bicycle. Simple times are a fad of the past, just like rubber armbands and kicking frantically in a pool to stay afloat. I miss the BBQ's, the family gatherings, the second's hand in high school counting down the remaining thirty seconds of the final period.
Where are the days when the boys came around, and we'd secretly look up boobies on the internet? Sadly, the company is gone.
I'll make friends, I'll lose friends. Some move away, others walk in. Old pals get jobs, we drink to celebrate using cheap liquors and household wines. I'll experience my first hangover. I miss the late-night table discussions.
I miss summer vacation and the endless weekend sleep-ins.
Why is there a longing sentiment in my chest for the mischievous times? Perhaps, it's the knowing, civilisation was lenient on our mistakes.
Sometimes, best friends fight. We'd scrape, hit, punch and kick each other. I'd walk home with a bloody nose.
I miss curfew once or twice... okay, far too many times I am willing to count, but at least I know who my real friends are.
I'd try hard in school; I'll do examinations, and fail tests. Yet, still, come out on top.
I'll learn to drive; apprehensively I'll take the wheel nervously pulling from junction to junction. While in the back of my mind, I hope my reaction time is adequate to stop at a traffic light.
The day when I got my first car, opened a bank account, and earned my first wage seems so long ago... So very long ago.
* * *
Once graduation comes, I'll try my hand at a normal life, beginning to sever the ties to my childlike wonder.
I'll pay off college debts; take a week's vacation a year if I am lucky, make new friends and buy a house with a white picket fence. I'll hold down a job, settle for a person, and relive my childhood on a daily basis fuelled with nothing but nostalgia. Instead, of fries and burgers... that is until I father my own childlike wonder.
The End
***
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