Isn’t it curious how when you are younger time seems to pass so slowly?
I could fit a whole adventure in the backyard in between lunch and dinner. Things felt eternal, but somehow they weren’t. Every year I told my little brother that we’d catch tadpoles at the park together. But it was always either too early or too late. That sweet spot ever alluded me.
Sure things moved slow, but I moved slower. I hesitated to take advantage of my youth, saying that I’d have time another day.
We can always catch tadpoles next summer.
What a load of shit.
My brother is growing up, he doesn’t want to spend his time catching tadpoles with his brother.
Me? I can’t seem to find the time anymore.