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To Count Backwards.
We live life in fast forward.
We count the years until we leave the house.
The months until we turn sixteen and finally get to drive away.
The days until our next birthday, holiday, get away,
Hours until the weekend,
Minutes until class is over.
We spend our lives counting,
Waiting, hating,
Listening to the minute hand ticking,
Seconds blinking away
Ignorant tears,
Longing for tomorrow.
Pause.
We spend our lives counting
Until we realize
We would give anything to go back.
To count backwards.
Rewind.
Rewind back to family dinners you were forced to sit through.
To Sunday night football games accompanied by the crackle of the fire.
Go back to waking up to the smell of blueberry pancakes,
Summer nights spent barefoot and carefree,
And to Norah Jones playing in the back yard.
To meaningless fights and random I love you’s,
And to nights spent in.
To all the firsts. First step, first word, first day, first kiss, first love.
Time only works in one direction.
We spend our time wishing it would pass faster,
Willing the clock’s hands to tick quicker,
When what we should have been doing is moving in slow-motion.
Cherishing every tick of the clock,
Every time we looked into each others eyes,
Every barefoot night and blueberry pancake.
Savoring the timeless moments,
Instead of trying to grow up in fast forward.
Play.
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