Take Me

We were children.

We used to tie kite strings to our wrists and run up and down the old field at the end of the avenue, thinking that if the wind willed, we could fly. And on the still days, when the branches hung low and silent, we'd spin around in circles until the world was pulled out from beneath our feet. We'd fall to our knees, collapsing with giggles as the earth became a temporary freak of a carousel. Take me back to the grass stains. Back to when we'd spend our evenings in the dirt piles, looking for earthworms. Back to when we'd dance the jitterbug under the sprinklers in my neighbor's front lawn as the plastic flamingo watching our every twist. I want to go back to the time we built a fort with the couch cushions and spilled the paint buckets on the the front porch. I want to feel the way I did when we launched ourselves off the swings in the park with fingers laced together. We both laughed and we both screamed because the sand tore our skin when we landed.
 And we landed hard.

But if you can't take me back, take me forward.

Take me to the future, where we both grow up and pay taxes and eat ramen every night. Take me to the day when you go furniture shopping for your new apartment and you ask me to come along so that together we can jump on all the mattresses at IKEA. You'll think I'm weird for liking the fake cowhide rug and I'll be silently judging you for your obsession with the tacky purple paint color you've grown so terribly fond of. And someday I'll be working and you'll be working and we'll both take a moment to realize how sad it is that there are no longer any scabs on our elbows or scratches on our cheeks. Take me to the moment when I'm by myself in the dark, feeling overwhelmed by a world that is making me feel small. That's when I'll call you up and we'll kill a few nighttime hours talking about our stupid problems. That's when you'll tell me the old stories, the ones about us and our adventures.

The adventures of our childhood.

But please don't take me very much farther into the future. Please not too far ahead. When I'm old and I forget

 what is was

       to be young

              to dream dreams

                     to dance in the sprinklers

        and to jump off of the swings.

Please don't take me into the far future. The future where you leave and I'm left behind. Because I couldn't stand that.

And you'd hate to see me cry.