Dena and our Ring Pops.
Dena and Bryan
Five Cent Carousel in Port Delhousie
Dena and Rainbow Sherbet Ice Cream
When I was younger, I was powered by imagination as I am now by wanderlust. I hope when I’m old and elegiac, my life will be powered by memories.
As a child, summer consisted of two full months of friends, activities and laziness. The glory days of five cent candy summers outweighed any special privileges I imagined adulthood could possibly grant me. My life seemed complete with summer dinners in the treehouse, pixie sticks, and the reaction of cold water as my feet dangled off the houseboat. Then, when the awkwardness and temperament days of pre-teen subsided, I thought my prime years were in my late teens. I spent my summers in debauch and felt most foolish within the hours preceding sunrise with late night drives through Ioco, and bonfire parties at the dyke. However, with each passing summer, I realize that our best years are falsely ascribed to our youth. Life seems to improve with age, and I find comfort that it will only keep on getting better. One day, I want to be able to turn to my grandkids and say with truth and certainty, "I am still living out the best years of my life".
Plus, being an adult doesn't mean that you still can't find moments to act like a child; we certainly played the part in Niagara.
Yours,
P. xo.
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