Innocence

I remember... 

The joy when I was allowed ice cream on a weekday,

when the school bell rang and it was time to play.

When Santa still showed up at our house, 

that year when I got tall enough to reach the cookies on the top shelf.

The ecstasy when I managed to hit a curved shot past dad,

or when grandma showed up on Mondays with a bag full of snacks. 

The euphoria as I shook the TV to wake up the people inside, 

or when cleaning my room meant I could go out and play. 

I remember... 

My heart beating fast when I had to walk in the dark.

The first time I spoke in front of unknown people,

or when at 4 a.m. I watched my favorite team win the cup.

The adrenaline rush during the last minute of the school year,

or when the plane finally landed with a thump.

When behind the school I lit up my first cigarette.

When she met my gaze and tossed the crumpled paper back with a yes. 

I remember... 

How I thought knowledge was only acquired through books, 

or that adults had to be always right.

That every problem had a solution,

and that God would always have my back. 

That the pennies in that man’s cup would one day buy him a house, 

that I could become anyone I wanted: Obama, even Beckham.

That injustice would always be punished

and that politicians never lied. 

That all criminals chose to become one, 

or that if something bad happened,

I could always wake up. 

I don’t remember where it all went.

All I can remember, is that I can only remember.