I can’t remember the last time I played.

I’ve slept in. Played hooky from work, stayed in bed, Awake tea and a book. I’ve taken trips alone and with others. But I can’t remember the last time I played. I’ve relaxed, chilled, sat back, gave myself permission to unwind fought to find that balance between work and leisure. But to truly sit down and play. I’m missing that.

I miss creating new characters, new villains who threaten our exist, foolish mortals!

I miss recess and running wildly, that full promise that last day of school before Summer break when the bell rings and you just have to race out of that awful building.

How free I felt, like I could literally sprout wings and fly. To leave more than gravity behind and go so high to a place in the sky where I won’t be bothered. To shed my school skin like a snake and be wild and unpredictable more full of energy and passion than wisdom.

To let my imagination be nourished by monsters and cowboys and aliens and comic books and movie matinees.

Racing my bike through a puddle super fast so as to not get wet. The way the puddle water sparkles on the spokes, the way the tennis ball rattles in the wheel with every revolution. To get into the sandbox and truly dirty and gritty.

I can’t remember the last time I played.

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Also published on Medium.