not much

I don't have anything to write...
but I haven't written anything in awhile. Not that I haven't written. And not that I haven't posted. I just haven't sat down with the intention of writing.
I miss writing.
I miss not feeling hurried.
There are so few places I've not felt hurried.
...where I've felt that summer feeling- like when you're little, when there is no time... The summers where you leave the house in the morning to play with your friends, when you sometimes remember you haven't eaten lunch... where you test fly kites off the highest pile of dirt in a field.... pound old apples with rocks and try to feed them to someone's dog... spent hours perfecting your cannon bomb in someone's pool... or constructed the most perfect ash tray and sun dial out of clay you've found (for your non-smoking parents)... or raced the wagon down the hill... or tried to really cook eggs on the sidewalk...
the smell of fresh dirt, and warm air.


... back to work....