I feel like I can only borrow that word now, once in a while. For a time, I owned it, and it felt, for a long moment there, like I could be forever defined by it. But really, if you really think about it, no one wants to be forever young. You can own it once, and then you have to give it away.
So now I can only borrow it.
Oh for a night under the stars. One of those young, fragrant nights: cool, breezy and just alive with promise. One of those nights that could last forever but only a second, really. The kind of night you carry in your head for days on end, and one blink, you realize, you’ve been carrying it for years.
Such a night would bring a warm hand. A familiar hand that fits snugly into mine. Lodged in my memory along with that hand, is a conversation, whispered for hours, in that hotel hallway, darkened but illuminated by our naïveté that yes, this could be love, and no, we can never hurt each other. We sat squished in that window, smelling in the perfume of night and talked like we were mind-reading. It was beautiful and there was this small jarred palm somewhere; which is why I smile when I see a jarred palm plant.
But that night was borrowed too. And I had to give it back.
But today, a thousand years later, oh how I wish I could get it back.
Or a different one maybe, with other echoes of past crazy to resonate in my head. Another night to be young. I have a whole collection of nights to borrow. Or even ones just bathed in my favorite afternoon sun. With the beach. And my bums. And those tree-laned cobbled roads. Not cobbled really, but always cobbled in my head.
I don’t need an entire night actually. Any memento from the days when I owned young would do. A cup of coffee: bitter, delicious and always teased with shrieks and awesome banter. A shot of tequila maybe, and the short-lived crazy that comes after it before I pass out. Or oh god, gin (!) yes, gin. An entire glass if you please. Along with my entire gin-induced dance repertoire now forever burning in the memories of my friends listed under “things we’d rather unsee.”
Or a song. Just one song. I’ve got songs that could span an entire lifetime in just over three minutes. An entire forever in another three. An entire heartbreak in just over two. Any of those songs would give me a bit of that perspective I lost over the years.
Oh to be young again. Because these days have somehow bled into each other and I can’t seem to separate one from the other. Because I’d like an entire day all to itself when I don’t have to feel like apologizing for being less than stellar. Because I used to be young and awesome and sparkly, and on my bad days only slightly vapid but still witty as hell. Because now I am slow and cranky and breaking out like crazy and just constantly tired when I’ve got this whole entire person who deserves me at my sparkliest, no less.
So yes. To be young again.
For however long the gods of young would allow.