Yesterday I drove past my elementary school
and the light turned red.
I watched as younger versions of me and my past friends began to walk along the worn down and story holding, rose tickled brick.
They then ran up the grassy hill of the church to their parents,
where I used to sit during dewy easter nights in the spring.
And I smiled, with tears in my eyes,
they wanted to escape,
just like me from the reality of growing up.
I waved at a little girl with caramel hair, little red shoes,
and small hands that grasped a purple elephant stuffed animal.
I still hug my stuffed animals when no one is watching.
My eyes moved with the little red shoes as she hugged her friends goodbye. Everything just might actually be alright.
The light turned green, and I drove away from the very place
that taught me how to love and grow and be grateful for it all,
even the red brick and stories it could tell
if it were just given the time.

Time moves as swiftly and suddenly as the lights changing from red to green. Wave while you can.