Bliss

I miss being twelve. I think we forget how to live just for the sake of living... I loved horses and wolves and the colour black. I miss building the fort in the olive tree and playing hide and seek in the bush, dirty finger nails, grazed knees, bruises, cuts and blisters. I miss being a tom-boy and secretly wanting to be a princess, pretending to be a ballerina when I thought nobody was looking, shoving all my clothes under my bed, broken pencils, lost erasers. I miss my friends and I miss my school and my semi-good grades, drawing a giant Hedwig on the tennis courts with bit of old chalk, hanging upside down from the monkey-bars with my skirt over my head, failing at soccer, word-finds, hugs, Harry Potter. Life without responsibility is bliss and looking back on it means so much more.