One Youth or Another

It was a magical Thursday afternoon in the park. Mom took me and my brothers after lunch and the orange cream popsicles that we begged for and received from the man with the cart at the gate entrance. It tasted like joy and peaceful fireworks when I bit into the frozen sugar, and the orange pooled at the corner of my lips and dribbled toward my chin as I gazed up at the cotton candy clouds in youthful distraction and awe. We hadn't a care in the world.

I skipped with the delicate remains of the popsicle in one hand, my brothers strode with premature confidence and my mother led us from behind with a watchful eye. She hadn't a care either, only true love and belief in us, which was a look I became fascinated with and I turned in circles as we journeyed just to get an occasional glance. It was natural to be loved, but even at that small age I knew it was unique - special - to be given unconditional smiles while recognizing their significance. Skip, spin, smile and repeat; I was an addict.

When mom wanted to stop and read her romance novel in the row of lawn chairs the park set up for tourists, my brothers and I took delight in a drooping tree where the branches got too old and spilled over themselves back to the ground. We used our popsicle sticks as guns and swords, and we weaved in and out of the branches screaming "pop - pop - pop, gotcha!" and killing each other again and again until our giggling exhausted us. Under the tree, the light poked in and found us as if God, Himself had ex-ray vision and was checking up on our innocence. When my brothers discovered their second wind and jolted back out into the open park, I took an extra minute to embrace the sharp ray of sun within the cove. The light tickled me. I let out a "rah!" and felt a zest rush from my toes through my legs and up to my chest, forcing me to take a mighty breath before jumping and racing out to meet my brothers again. My middle brother, Jamie, pounced on me in the grass and enticed Franklin to join for a two-on-one wrestling match in which we all ended up twisted and tucked into each other, laughing hysterically. Our teeth were still orange.

The tree and our antics were my favorite things on Earth. I would have played there all day and night, always disregarding the American tourists who paused to take pictures, and continuously finding new strength from the juxtaposed shade and light. The moments there were all mine.

I miss the days of youthful abandon. No responsibility, no concern... we were there, together, full heartedly taking in every small morsel of love that life could provide; and when I think back to those times, I realize how much the buzz is still ingrained in my skin and my blood and my soul. I have to shake my head in a shiver, scream even if only into myself with tight lips, and open my self with a "pop - pop - pop - RAH!!!!!!"