Summer: A time of life, of soaring high through the air, a time of celebration before the coming end.
People talk about the summer of life, as if there was a time of brilliance before it all fell. They speak as though it is sometime before your age begins to become an issue, before your body starts to give in and your brain starts to drag. A time that is followed by an agreement, a contract you signed at your peak without reading the small print, a time before the others shine brighter.
The curse of the summer was the naivety, the message that got lost somewhere along the way. 'It won't last forever'. Time's trick on the human race, tricking us into loosing track of the time we have, the very little time we are all pre-allocated. Understood best universally by children with the weeks of freedom they dream to last longer and the months of containment they long to end.
They say you gain understanding of life as you grow older, rather you think you do. This is an adult's lie of self encouragement, as if to convince themselves they are living life right. There is no deeper understanding of life than a child's. One that has no bitterness or bias, simple and pure.
Who better to take advice from than the human that spends their days filled with joy? Should we not learn from them rather than teach them our soulless ways? I believe the best of us do, taking wisdom from the young and naivety from the old. A wise man can tell you his mistakes, tell you to follow your dreams, but a young child can tell you love, with no visible or expressible downside. They can tell you the meaning of our existence without telling you to run from it.
A child's joy is one of pure beauty, one that can be brought by the purest and simplest of things. Spinning was my chosen child pass time. There were many for my generation; video gaming, pokemon, television and so many more capitalist systems, but mine was simply spinning. Standing in a field, in one spot and watching the world spin around as if I was watching a film. Looking back a child psychiatrist would be sure to find a child who enjoyed a euphoria from disorientation one of great interest. Would I become a drug addict or a mass murderer because I enjoyed to spin as a child?
That's what spinning was to me anyways; a drug that my child-like brain basked in. An escape mechanism that didn't involve copious amounts of vodka, a twenty pack of Marlborough golds and a bag full of marijuana. Yes. Adults really are the wise and intelligent ones of our species.
I could spend hours just throwing my body in circles through the air until I lost balance, falling on to the grass and watching the sky contort itself through my eyes. Just like the adrenaline one finds on a swing; rushing through the air to a before unreachable height, only to plummet back down to the ground with a swing to save the fall.
This was my summer. This was the years of which I had such innocence. Unaware of time, of truth, of the pain of love. Spinning was my escape, my drug, but I had nothing to run from. I was perfect then, there no flaw with my life, yet the young me still felt the need to spin for hours. Much like an adults need to indulge in their own personal paradise and thus creates an issue of which to run from, my childish brain was abusing my escape route without knowing it's value.
Of course, one thing that child and adult are alike in the blindness of is the future. The spinning me with a smile from ear to ear was not to know of what was to come, I was so lost, so blinded by the summer that my Autumn came with a snap. A snap down the middle of that little girl's world. A snap in my family.