What Dreams May Come

It is funny how easy things are at twenty years of age.  Nothing hurts, and motion / movement just feels good.  You bounce well for the most part, and if it does hurt today, you can count on tomorrow or at the very least next week being back to your young and vital self.   The seasons, and the years, and life roll placidly-sometimes hectically by and one day you wake up, look in the mirror and you see your mother or your father looking back at you.  You think "how the heck did that happen"?  But those little dreams, those unfulfilled life experiences they still live within us clutched tightly within the hand of the  inner child that never dies.  As long as that inner child hangs on tight, we have dreams, and hopes, and laughter.

Yesterday my inner child was alive and well for about twenty miles, only to be rudely shoved and pommeled under by the almost senior me at about mile twenty-one.  "Oh dear God this hurts, why am I doing this, why do I do this", says the almost senior me.  The voice of the inner child answers "because I love it."