Painful Nostalgia.

I want to shrink.
I want that uncomfortable feeling of sand coating my hands and sneaking under my nails. I want to run until my legs fall off. I want to put sunscreen over my nose before I go out to play. I want to ask more questions. I want to wonder more. I want to be called in at dusk. The kind of dusk where you can taste the air. I want my family to be together. Not just together but, happy. I want my younger brother to be shorter than me again. I want to call on the kids down the street. I want to call first on the swing set. I want to scrape my knee. I want my hair to be in braids. I want to be a kid again. The knowledge of all of that being over is just...surreal. I can never get i back. It's gone, slipped through my fingers like jello. But a few pieces remain and mold themselves into my skin as painful nostalgia. I am no longer a child. I can finally reach the cookie jar, and for once, just once more time I'd like to have to climb.