Sometimes, I long to be in a world again of record stores, sun-ripened raspberries, Nirvana, and bell bottom jeans. I miss my dog and phone calls versus texts.

I miss hitting a softball and sliding into home. I miss winning a tennis match and pulling my hair back with a scrunchy.

I miss a time before 9/11 when I felt my childhood slip away with the mass destruction.

I miss reading CD labels and spaghetti strap shirts from Delia’s catalogs. I miss pretending to be grown reading Cosmo.

I miss the original Matchbox 20 album I played over and over again in 7th grade, a soundtrack to my adolescent woes.

I miss Friday nights under the lights at Memorial Field and “Cowboy Take Me Away.””

I miss my childhood friends.

I miss these things but thankful for the memories. I hope my kids’ childhoods are as cool as mine was (even though at the time I did not realize).

I just wish the real world would just stop hassling me.

Angst and Spaghetti striped glory