It’s Very Far Away

It’s Very Far Away

Probably the main thing I loathe about our current lives is the busyness that we live with every week. It is too much, much too much. I want the endless days of my childhood for you, but more often it feels like our days are endless in a completely opposite way.

Except lately. Lately, we’ve had time.

Today you floated in the pool on a quest for peanut butter pizza. I didn’t fully understand it then and I don’t fully understand it now. I heard it was “very far away” and that you had “two hours of stuff.” I know you “had to find the peanut butter pizza” and that you stopped to eat some (pretend) raspberries. I know that this whole endless adventure unfolded over such a great distance and such a long time and yet you never moved very far at all, together on the punching-bag-turned-pool-float, occasionally drifting around in a circle.

You took me back with you. Through the fog of decades, I could look at you and I remember the summer afternoons where time faded away and I entered a state of play where it felt like I had truly gone somewhere. To lean your face on the hot plastic of a pool float and twirl around in a circle in a $7 wading pool and cross oceans.

I never tire of watching your imaginative play but this one hit me harder than most because while I have been thrilled and intrigued to watch your games lengthen, this one felt different. I think you felt you’d been there, too, wherever there is. The land of peanut butter pizza and raspberries and two hours of stuff. Where time slows down like a dream, and you can live a whole sea voyage in five minutes because no one is ruining it by telling you that you only have five minutes.

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