Fading Childhood Memories

By Deputy Features and Opinions Editor Luca Oakman

Fading Childhood Memories

I hear it sometimes, that distant tune, The scent of rain in the heat of June. The creak of a swing, the patter of feet, Running through summers that never repeat.

The world was simple, painted in light, Fireflies blinking like stars in the night. Hopscotch squares and lazy-day naps, Echoes of joy in childhood’s clasp.

Do you remember the whispers of trees, The rustling secrets caught in the breeze? The stories we spun in make-believe lands, Holding the universe in our small hands?

Sidewalk chalk faded, but never erased, Traces of wonder that time can’t replace. Knees scraped from climbing too high, too fast, Believing each summer would always last.

Cotton candy clouds in an endless sky, Kites soaring free as the days drifted by. Hide-and-seek shadows stretched long in the glow, Of sunsets that lingered, reluctant to go.

And though we have grown, and the years pull tight, A thread still connects me to childhood’s light. For deep in my soul, in the hush of a dream, I hear my own laughter, soft and serene.

Beneath the old oak, I sit all alone,

 Tracing the past in the cracks of a stone.

 The echoes still call, but the voices have changed,

 Familiar, yet distant—so close, yet estranged.