98-12-25
If
yesterday wasn´t as good as it used to be (and it wasn´t,
you should know that by now if you know me. Christmas seems
to get worse every year. Rapidly worse right now, as I am too
old for being really enthusiastic, and yet I am the youngest in
my family, and kind of supposed to be all happy and eager.
Or so it feels.), at least today is better than before.
Or at least it´s less bad.
I don´t feel sad that Christmas is over anymore.
I used to, of course.
I used to get up early as well. I couldn´t sleep much past
7 a.m.
Things change.
I change.
And my neighbourhood does.
You know, I´m not at home as much as I would like nowadays,
and when I am, I don´t see too much of my friends, or even
people I know.
I think they haven´t got as much time as before. That they
aren´t as here as before.
We are all moving out, leaving it behind us.
We used to be all over the place. Our place. Our
neighbourhood. It belonged to us and we belonged to it.
We knew everyone, and everyone knew us.
We were children.
And as children do, we did.
We did the stuff that dreams are made of.
We were the ones playing basketball in the park, with our
T-shirts taken off.
We built those treehouses in the forest, brought our food
there, and always planned more than we could see through.
We had water-wars in our backyards.
And we rode our bikes everywhere. We rode them in the sun.
While we were at it, I thought it was going to last forever.
I could never think of any other way. We were now, and now
was forever.
But it´s over and done with now.
New kids ride their bikes to the soccer field, throw them to
the side and join in the game.
Like we used to.
I´ll never do that again. It´s a closed book.
You know, if life was a bookshelf, and its pieces were books,
we would reach higher the younger we were.
Upon finishing the book as a kid, I must have been standing
on my toes, putting it on as high a shelf as I could. And done
a good job, because now, no matter how hard I try, I can´t
reach it.
We´re never allowed to re-read our favourites.