Footsteps

I'm tracing my footsteps
back to who I once was,
back to when I was innocent
and the worst hurts were skinned knees,
bruised shins,
or bumped heads.
I want to be that little girl on the swing again,
whose feet never quite touched the ground
if she just pushed hard enough,
who thought she could fly
and nothing on earth could hold her down.
I wish I could go back to that time,
when happiness was a drippy popsicle,
or scented crayons,
or dancing with your best friend to country songs
outside on the front steps.
When rainy days were best for staying out in,
when we could play football in the street,
when we fished in our back yard
even if we never caught anything.
I want to be that little girl who thought she could do no wrong.
The girl who was excited about her schoolwork,
who answered the door in nothing but a nightshirt,
who spent all Valentine's Day at the carnival
and never cared that she never had a valentine at all.
Things were so much easier when the worst part of your day
was a thunderstorm you were scared of,
and even then it was an easy solution
we locked ourselves in the bathroom with a bunch of pillows and my dog,
and everything was suddenly okay.
I'm tracing my footsteps
back to who I once was,
but I can't find them anymore
and I think I'm losing her
for good.