Wind ran through the trees, moving their leaves and mimicking the forest's inhabitants. The sun was low and glinted off the water. Everything was orange, tinted with the dying light our our prized star.

I don't think I'd ever seen the water so still. This time of day evoked a calm in the woods that was unique to this place, this moment. The water didn't lap the shore as it did in the rambunctiousness of Summer. It was like a warm ice had frozen it, giving no warning.

The wind continued to whistle through the branches, but it didn't seem to touch a drop of the lake.

I walked along the silent shore line, letting my feet move involuntarily as my mind dwelled on other things.

Winters had been spent cautiously trying the ice and seeing how far skipping stone would skid on the paused water. Springs involved braving the newly melted ice and feeling the mud for sleeping turtles. In warmer months, I would set a large tarp onto the ground and lay on top of the sleeping bag, staring up at the sky. Those days, thoughts were constantly popping into my head as fast as light go on.

I had a lot of time to think. I was always alone. But it never fazed me. Life was simpler and everything was so much easier to classify.

Night was bad, morning was good; sun was warm, rain was cold; this is this, that is that.

I wish I could go back to that little child, finding wonder in everything and not worrying about the future, only guessing and wishing.

But time slips away so fast, I struggle to hold it on my wrist like so many others.

It can't be measured in the distance of days or even the measure of a smile. It's in everything we find out and all we love. It's in what we hold, what we cherish.

So, here's to the past, the days of youth and moments of awe. Here's to the places where I stood.