When I was a kid I’d jump from my bed, as if I was sliding down the tallest mountain in the world.
When I was a kid, I’d run through my garden hose, pretending to swim through the most sky blue water in the world.
When I was a kid, I’d chase my brother around the house with a stick, as if I was a swash buckling pirate.
When I was a kid, I’d make forts out of pillows, and call them my caves. Sleeping with imagery bats.
When I was a kid, I’d dream of grand adventures.
But I grew up, and I’m not a kid anymore.
As an adult, I scaled down a mountain in Phuket. My fingers gripping tight into limestone and smelling the salty air of the nearby ocean.
As an Adult, I dived deep into the blue water of the Indian Ocean. My body sat in the middle of schools of bright royal blue fish, and feeling our existences collide.
As an Adult, I ran down the shores of a sandy beach, once rumored to house pirates and treasure. Feeling the hot sand, and running along side hermit crabs.
As an adult, I could smell the damp air as I climbed through caves, and felt bats wisp through my hair. For once not being scared of the dark, but enjoying it.
As I travel more and more I’m reminded, maybe those dreams weren’t too big, and the world was never too small.
