Remember when our parents let us swim in the creek together? Despite suggestion from public safety officials? We were so happy there. But eventually, the water became too thick and muddy and you needed to find a bigger body of water. You found a pond.
I met you at your pond and it was wonderful for so long. We helped each other swim laps. While no one could beat my canon balls, you had a mean flailing leap with which I could not compete. The days were endless and lovely there in our pond.
Suddenly, a clock started ticking. An alarm. It was so loud and it made me mad. But I couldn't ignore it. I knew it meant that I needed to leave the pond.
I found myself at the edge of an ocean. A brilliant, sparkling ocean full of blues and greens and even gold. I wanted to show you. I wanted you to see that I had found a better place, like when you showed me your pond. When I tried to though, you said you had built a pier over your pond. Better yet, you had found some floaties to keep you safe.
While the clock seems to have lost it's alarm, I still hear it ticking. It takes away day after day that I do not have with you. These days, these years, I will never get back.
Sometimes I walk to the shore, at the edge of my great ocean and pray. I pray that your pier would rot away and that your floaties would deflate. You would be left in the pond alone and a great tide would sweep you out into a river. That river would carry you into my ocean and pull you onto the sand. There I would be waiting to pick you up and take you home.