Life is weighted on the front end.
Summers are longer, winters wane, and dreams seem attainable but far off.
School days flow like lava—heavy and slow—
not the steady stream of the middle years, and
certainly not this rushing torrent at the far end of it all.
When you are young, 25 is old.
When you are young, you can’t ever imagine not succeeding.
Summer vacations are so long you actually start to miss school.
The sun rises slowly, then creeps along at a snail’s pace,
beating down on young ones running barefoot from shade to shade to avoid the burn.
Reaching graduation, jobs, independence, marriage, and kids—it all seems like a lifetime away when you are plodding through the lazy, long days.
Christmas is a forever away. Presents lie wrapped and examined beneath the tree,
trying the patience, feeding expectation.
And winter drags its icy feet, sowing doubt that…
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Apronhead 