to be a kid again

i miss being a kid.  it was the best.  i miss my little ponies, barbies, my boombox, my madonna tapes, my glass animal collection.  i wonder where all that stuff went.  when i was young, it was lucky charms in the morning, cream of wheat that we called mush, and cinnamon and sugar toast for breakfast.  i can still smell the waffles dad would make on sunday, or when mom cooked swedish pancakes for dinner in that yellow pan.  i can still picture my little outfits: stretchpants and keds, saltwater sandals, hypercolor sweatshirts that hung to my knees, or the matching koolot and blouses i made myself on my new home sewing machine.  i burned the motor out on that thing sewing clothes for myself and my barbies.  i remember painting my fingernails on the front porch with my best little friend katrina, or building supermarkets out of legos in her beige carpeted basement while eating cheese whiz on ritz crackers.  i can still hear the popping of the pillsbury cinnamon roll tube that my brother and i would bake for every father and mother's day.  breakfast in bed was always a special treat.    in the summer, we'd spend time swimming in norma's pool, only when the towel was out on the fence to signal could we come over to play.  festive were the days of selling lemonade at the massive garage sales we used to have.  i miss my rudimentary computer with the green dot matrix screen, with games like oregon trail and odell lake, conan and donkey kong, printshop and the perforated paper that would make the long banners with dorky graphics celebrating every occasion.  i miss those Christmases we used to have, decorations and presents to the hilt.  i used to watch shows like family ties, you can't do that on television, saved by the bell, charles in charge, but they don't make programs like that anymore.  i miss the way mom would sit nestled on the couch in her pink robe mornings before school.  i'm just resting my eyes, she'd say, dozing off.  i miss it, miss it all bad, and somedays, just thinking about it, i feel like crying.  i miss the days when i didn't know pain, and death, and the world was full of magic and fun and excitement.   things can seem perfect when you don't know any better, but eventually you grow up.  growing up is hard enough...and then you learn the ways of the world.

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