I miss being a Kid.
I miss being a Kid, when these troublesome hormones hadn’t kicked in. I miss the swings, slides and the occasional playground fights. I miss being not affected by friends and the world in general. I miss being close but detached. I miss the times when I was too young to call anyone a good friend let alone best friend.
I miss forgetting, especially the stuff (which I wanted) I was told it was not possible that time. I miss grinning and waving madly at a passing train. I miss piggy back rides and playing make belief. I miss dancing in the car to the radio’s music (now I’m too tall and grown to stand in the car). I miss holding hands while crossing a road. I miss my walker, tricycle and my squeaky toys. I miss my Barbie dolls, my soft toys and the times I played with them. I miss my tiny frocks, my butterfly and flower clips and by precious milk bottle.
I miss the taste of polio drops. I miss nursery rhymes and the fatcrayons. I miss writing the alphabets and scribbling with the crayons. I miss making ‘deformed animals’ (I was a KID!) using modeling clay. I miss the kiddy rides at the amusement parks. I miss being carried by Dad. I miss fitting in Mum’s arms. I miss not having a cell phone. I miss sucking a lollipop. I miss being a Kid.
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