When the Wind Still Knew My Name

I long for those careless days, when the world called and I answered almost weekly, free as the wind itself.

I miss the sun’s slow toast upon my skin,

how the salt water softened my fair complexion into something warmer, deeper.

The grit of sand lingering between toes and fingertips,

the playful push and pull of waves against my body.

The sweet ache in my legs as I claimed high mountains,

and that cold, pure wind that embraced me like a whispered secret

each time I stood upon the peak—

tasting freedom in every breath.

Then the long drive home, body weary yet glowing with quiet satisfaction,

adrenaline still humming softly beneath the surface.

These were luminous, golden memories…

until the weight of adulthood settled in,

and the light began to fade.