Ready Or Not

swings

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Remember asking another kid to be your friend on the playground? Remember how relieved you felt when they answered, “I thought we already were!”

Remember flying down silver slides, gravel on your knees, pumping on swings and twisting in the chains?

I was it. I counted by the tree. “Ready or not here I come!”

I remember fashioning a clover crown to give to my first crush, when playground games took on an entirely different meaning, when I didn’t seem to have “cooties” anymore.

First loves, first hates, bee hives, sledding accidents, summer adventures, times of joy, pain, challenge, success. All a journey on a speeding train, the destination: our memories, how we got to where we are today, using iPhones, Bluetooth, GPS, streaming movies on Netflix in an Uber AV… didn’t I just ask for directions at the gas station yesterday, take great care in folding away a paper map?

Artificial intelligence, human genomes, targeted cancer therapies on the horizon, all breathtaking achievements; achievements of our lives marking time, like brush strokes on canvas, thicker, bolder use of color as time moves, creates, blurs through poetry and parables, a metaphorical masterpiece returning us to the playground…

To the mud.

To the puddles.

To trying our very best to dodge them.

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College graduation, 1992, rockin’ that polka dot collar!

copyright © Kelly Huntson and findingwhatssweet.com 2015-2017. All rights reserved.

 

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