Sometimes I Miss

Sometimes I miss yesterday.

Sometimes I miss being naive,

not knowing what I know,

not relating everything to something else.

Sometimes I miss people.


I miss who they were,

naive,

not knowing what they know.

I miss when we weren't political,

or knew that religion could divide us more than unite us.

Sometimes I miss the me that didn't know what it felt like to have my heart broken.

I miss her because she didn't question people,

or the certainty of the future.

I miss the days when all things seemed possible but I didn't think about the possibilties because, like, huh?  I didn't have time for, like, thinking about possibilities and I didn't have to worry anyway.

I miss that insecure feeling I would get when I forgot my pager at home and totally swore I was missing the most important page of my life and couldn't wait to be reunited with my pager.

I miss not worrying about the effects of not wearing sunscreen.

I miss the summers when the most important thing was having the best tan.

I miss walking home in the rain.

I miss the ones I've lost along the way.

I miss taking them for granted.

I miss sharing clothes with my room-mates.

I miss playing cards with my siblings as a kid.

I miss days before security threats when we could drive to Ontario airport and lie and watch the planes as they floated into the sky.

Today I miss you.  I miss me.  I miss friends.  I miss things.  I miss.