Realizing Time
Josh Sundberg


Being young. Time stood still like the hands of a clock in an old abandoned schoolhouse. The biggest problems were what was for dinner, or whether or not my favorite Clint Eastwood movie would work in the old, ratty VCR. That was until I grew up.

As a child my grandmother and I would tend the garden of her famous potatoes with which she would make her homemade pancakes from. Squashing garden intruders with my blue Playtell plastic pliers, and eradicating any pests that would dare harm my grandmother’s sanctuary. Bang! Bang! My cap gun mows down Indians with a brutal sweep of my left hand; snake eyes glistening in the high noon sun. Dreaming of hunting down the bad guys like Clint, and catching space aliens with my lasso; catching fish as long as my arms, and out throwing my invisible pal with small river stones, were an everyday occurrence as a child.

I used to dream of hopping on a hot air balloon and traveling across the World. Seeing the gallant North American Bison running triumphantly through the smooth and tranquil plains; the exotic zebras galloping amongst the African safari. These were my dreams, and hopes of tomorrow. My world existed for as far as my little eyes could see. I knew of no hate, genocide, war, or crime. My mind was ignorant to the little fantasy I was experiencing.

As age came, and the dreams I once held so dear to myself, faded, life became more bleak and dismal. Being exposed to the reality of this sometimes terrible rock we call home changed and shifted my look and thoughts of reality. The world was not so innocent. The innocence that I held had vanquished, becoming no more than a mirage. Watching the sand fall through my fingers, I had a rough time shifting from the blooming boy, to the blossoming man. The hourglass was flipped, and there was no way of reversing its course. I didn’t want to give up my dreams, or my hopes, but one must realize the hard brick wall of reality.

If I could grasp the physics of time travel, I would go back and relive childhood all over again. Innocence and bliss are something I envy so much. Seeing that little kid playing on the swing set, or running up the slide brings back the happiest of memories, yet the saddest of emotions.

But most people learn to realize that getting older is mandatory, and growing up is optional, and that some dreams never die.