Reprieve

Saturday was a bright and sunny day, a little cooler than it has been lately, but still perfect for a bonfire and a slip n’ slide party. My friends are not just wonderful people, they are also a hell of a good time.  We ate, we drank, we laughed and played, enjoying each others’ company and the thrill of recaptured youth.

If there is one thing I truly miss about being a child, it’s the constant feeling of presence. Children live in the moment. They don’t worry about the future or attempt to make sense of the past nearly as much as we adults do. It’s an unavoidable tragedy, losing the present, and the wisest among us do what they must to hold on to as much of it as they can. I had not grasped it for myself in far too long, long enough that I had forgotten what it felt like.

Relishing the warmth of the sun on my skin, and the rosy rush of vodka. The scent of my shampoo mixed with a hint of wood smoke. The spicy smell of bourbon. Flying through the air, weightless, free. Alive. Racing down a steep hill and landing hard, but not too hard. Chilly night air raising goosebumps on my arms. Laughter ringing all around me. A warmth that only the company of wonderful people provides. The light of the fire dancing across happy faces. A sense of awareness and presence that rang from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head like a bell, vibrating all the way through me and filling me with contentment and freedom, confidence and delicious uncertainty. A new breath of life and hope.

I woke up the next morning sore and bruised; a reminder not only of the fragile state of my youth but also our ability to set aside the complicated adult world and relish the moment, if only for a few precious hours.