But Why?

Today I fed my inner child, taking him out to the park to ride the swings and get ice cream. He wants to sit up top on the jungle gym and scan the world. He motions me over and passes the flask to me. Cold, harsh whiskey burns my throat nicely, warmly, sweetly. He points off at the horizon to the setting sun, past the cars and streets and cityscape. “Someday I’ll go there.” He looks back at me and smiles a mischievous smile. “Look beyond,” he says. “Look as I do.” And I do, and I see more, I see the city in purples and grays, in bubble gum pinks and silvery greens. “Life,” he says continuing as if he hadn’t stopped. “Life my boy, life, it’s all around and above and below, don’t try to break it down, don’t try to measure it out in tablespoons; Life. Throw the ball, sing the song, kiss the girl; Life.” Then he stops and meets my eyes and I look at my own eyes, deep and old and liquid. “I remember the beginning, when none of this was here, I remember it all, we came here long long ago, when this place was still young, still,” he smiles a faint smile “…cooling.” “We wanted to know, we wanted to touch and so we are here.” We sit there for a while watching the sunset on top of that jungle gym passing the flask back and forth neither saying a word. “What do you want?” I ask. He cocks his head and looks over at me, taking a long sip. “Learn something different. Build something new. Have so much fun you forget how old you are, where you are, what your name is, and that you need to breathe at all.” We sat like that till the sun went down, my inner child and me, my id and me, my antecedent and me, my soul and me, myself and me.