Young again.

July 7, 2018 § 2 Comments

I want to be young again.

Not thirty-young.

Not eighteen-young.


I want to be so new my own hands are a foreign land.

So new that light is a stunning surprise.

So new that the temperature of the world shocks me till I bawl—and then the sound of my own voice shocks me again.


I want a body that is still growing up, not down, one that takes me places I have forgotten about as an adult, or have come to take for granted.

I want to sit under the table surrounded by grownups’ knees, unnoticed as those grownups speak adult and pay no attention to their own shoes–but I will, in my secret cave under the table.

I want the line between what is real, and what is not, to blur, so that the imagined is so possible it tingles my spine, even if it puts that scary thing that huffs in the night back under my bed.

I want to be the kid, the junior partner, the one who sits in the back seat and whines.

I want to un-know all I know, returning to blank-slate where a whole new self can be written; who would I become this time?

I want to turn over rocks in a creek amazed at what lies under them.

I want, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” to be an open question, one I’ll think about later.

I want to lie on my back in the grass, catch fireflies and put them in a jar, even though the adult I currently am knows they will barely blink in captivity.

I want time to be so commodious and slow I have the luxury of growing bored.

I want summers that last forever.



I want siblings knocking around the house, friends in the neighborhood, a dog who may be the only one who understands me.

Although they barely exist anymore, I want a screen door that slaps shut as I run out of the safety of my house and into the vast, unknown world of a few square blocks.

I want to be young again.

Note: Writing this I was responding to two things. The first, as is evident in the reference to screen doors, was a nostalgia for my own fortunate, happy childhood.

The second was an acknowledgement that self is a fluid thing, that where we start out, what we see along the way, and who shares that life, all shape who we become. We are who we are due to circumstance, and I wonder, who might might I be under other circumstances?



§ 2 Responses to Young again.

  • Craig reeder says:

    makes you realize at that point in time you could or might become any one of a dizzying spectrum of different adults. really makes you think about your own identity and how it got so frozen over the years. and what it might be again some day.


  • Bill Westervelt says:

    But Adrian, your circumstances involve those you love, those who influenced you the most in your early years. Knowing those people, I can’t imagine you would ever want to change that. Maybe you should start a little later in life, day at age 4 or 5. Though, with an author/mother, it seems like the cards fell where they would have. I think the artistic side of you has helped create who you are. Or maybe vice versa. Either way, I really like the finished product!


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