Focusing my attention behind me, I observe the kids, faces caked in various fried foods, bolting towards any line available without a care in the world. Parents have thrown in the towel for fun already, and young couples hold hands before the rides start. I can’t help but close my eyes in order to soak in this wonderful but knowingly temporary summer night. I run my hands slowly and carefree through my waist-length, curly hair while the smell of popcorn selfishly floods my nostrils. This night, I feel like the main character to a Netflix original; the part of the show before any conflict, where the viewer feels the warm nostalgia of being young. 

“Can you take a picture of us?” a young girl asks, eagerly posing on the Ferris wheel with her lover.

“It’s so cold out!” an old man yells.

Becoming aware of the biting cold outside in my t-shirt and shorts, I decide it’s only fair to stay numb to it. Will I still be friends with these people around me in a year? Will we still find joy in going to the amusement park as we get older? I’d rather surrender myself to a game of tug of war with the cold than let the night end. 

I reflect on Parker Days a lot. This fair was temporary, lasting 5 days, and it came every year. I'd see all of my friends there, and it brought some of the most memorable experiences I have of being young and carefree. I ask with this story, what makes our childhood so sacred and sought after? Why do we wish to grow up so fast, but spend the rest of our lives mourning those years of our adolescence?

It looks like I’m not the first person to wake up, for the blower is now pushing in a smell coming from my right window. Half-awake, I begin to smell the hard work of my early waking neighbor who’s been cutting his grass. It must be Kevin; his lawn always looks quite impressive. 

The world has wasted no time this morning, exemplifying my oversleep. I reach to grab my phone from under the covers, and I’m instantly hit with the white tower’s gust of cold air. “Jeez, I’ve been in this linen burrito for so long my body heat could scorch someone,” I say to myself. The detouring cold temperature of my room only entices me to keep sleeping.

However, long nights must always come to an end. As I grow more conscious of my surroundings, I can taste the spaghetti I’d made my roommates and me last night. “Did I forget to brush my teeth after dinner?” I figured my insistent scrolling on social media last night was a distraction enough to forget self-care. At this moment, I realize the birds are right. Today will be great, but only if I get up to face it head-on. I lifted my covers and decided to head to the bathroom to give my teeth a scrub. 

For this story I wanted to take a more creative approach, and I wanted the reader to feel like they stepped into my body just for a second. I wanted them to feel like they were waking up one morning experiencing it through my lens. The main question I would ask here is, "Do you ever try and be present, focusing your attention in on the small moments in life?" I find that it's not always the large events in your life that make life memorable if you focus on the smaller things. How do you think your perspective on life would change if you paid more attention to the mundane things we take for granted?