Often, I miss nap times, recess, the old Disney Channel,
sitting crisscross applesauce (with my hands in lap, of course), ballet,
my toy box with the pink top, going to the nurse’s office
to get out of P.E. I miss Southerland Head Start, playing outside with my cousins,
my Razor scooter, my half naked Bratz dolls, apartment #25 on Laurel and
the pool there that I nearly drowned in. I miss my uncle being drunk and talking mess to everyone during holidays.
Those trips to Dallas, my first Baby Alive, my pet fishes who survived Katrina, my purple
Gameboy that technically wasn’t my Gameboy, but still, I miss it.
And I really miss my dad, the garage apartment we shared,
his cooking, that broken-down Mazda with no A/C or radio,
our car conversations, his huge CD and movie
collection, the sound of his voice, and the feel of his arms around me.
Often, very often, I miss the days where I wasn’t worried about boys,
but about The Powerpuff Girls. Where I had no responsibilities or bills.
When I was young and carefree and unaware of any insecurities.
Please take me back to simpler times.
To 1999 where it all started, and everything was just fine.