Oh to be a gremlin child again. Covered in grass stains and grazes, hair unbrushed with daisies in the knots, no concept of my own physicality, half way up a tree and eating an apple around my missing tooth. To be unabashedly ugly, to be unashamedly hungry, to be healthy and hearty and lean and covered in bruises and full of love and sun warmed strawberries. To feel time stretch forever, only flying when I fall into books. To love summer once more, and her insects and sweat.
