Sometimes I wonder if mine was the last generation that will remember the world by the feel of it pressed up against us. I wonder if us 80’s and 90’s kids were the last to know the earth from up close and personal experience. An earth that we dug our toes into all afternoon and had scrubbed from our faces at night. A life that we raced after in the woods, screaming like wild banshees and baked under in the heat without sunscreen.
Will the next generations know anything of mud fights and bike rides and building forts in the trees? Will they experience grass stains and bee stings as a weekly routine? Will they lay on their back at night and watch the stars? Will they see the life around them for themselves, will they remember it by the touch and recognize it by the smell and feel of it on their fingers?
If ours was the last, I feel sorry for the pale faced souls of the next generation. If I could, I would grab them all by the hand (and the shirt collar if they refused) and lead them on a great hunt for grizzly bears in their back yard, we would sail across the sea until we landed on the other side of the mud puddle and then we would collapse on the ground and breathe in the world. And we would remember it by the scent.
Perhaps ours is the generation to make old souls of the next.