a love letter for my nine-year-old self

i have a lot to learn from you

picking tomatoes from the garden,
making pictures of the clouds for hours and hours,
finding treasure in that bucket of sand,
and holding it precious to keep in your tiny box

i know that you spin in the living room
so you can plop on the couch
and stare at the corner of the room
and watch as it shifts and whirls

you create worlds
so vividly painted in your mind
the backyard, your jungle
the sidewalk, your place to spy

now i live in other artificial worlds;
ones manufactured by consumer-hungry corporations
and now it’s as if i am game in their jungle
and i am monitored by their spies

while these worlds are not all bad and scary,
i crave the simplicity that you know;
you don’t have to make every effort to relieve the weight off your back
or try to massage the permanent furrow from your brow

you do not fear missing out
or messing up
or measuring up

your only concern is “what’s for dinner?”

you know your best friends number off by heart
you see tiny fairies dancing on tree leaves
you watch the fish in the pond and call them by name,
you whisper to them.

and you whisper to me,
"it doesn’t have to feel so complicated”

and you’re right.