childhood blues

I wish that my reflections of childhood were of me skipping rocks across still pond waters, or catching fireflies on warm summer nights.

I wish that my reflections of childhood were of me popping wheelies on rural roads, or chopping down trees to at least lay the foundation for a log cabin.

I wish that reflections of childhood would bring a chuckle to the surface, but this is the blues. Going back in time armed with what I know now would be of no benefit because the experiences then equipped me for now. And now would not be a time of reflection without then.

Childhood

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