Skipping

Do you ever play the skipping game? We see the children skip with ease and remember summer days, butterflies and swimming pools.  Carefree is the word that comes to mind. I think adults skip too.  We do it with what we would call maturity, I guess.  We play the skipping game all alone in our minds, safe from ridicule or failure.  A quiet moment, sometimes late before the last blink turns to sleep, we skip around in our minds.  From earliest memories, to elementary school, we skip. Our feet brushes down into the earth memory like we are floating from above.  We dip into our souls a bit and pause. We think about the highs and we think about the lows. We skip around and feel a pain and hurt.  Maybe we brush across the tops of ourselves and remember the longing, or settle  into a steady jog with ourselves remembering love, a hope, or a dream. We skip and skip and maybe even in our maturity, we may stop a moment in mid-skip, touch the earth and cry.