The days of popsicles on the porch. Swimming everyday. Soccer games in the park. Summer camp every other week: Arts and crafts, movies, games, more swimming. Slumber parties. All the neighborhood kids would come over to play. And somehow that slipped away.
Somewhere along the line, we all get too big for popsicles and too tired for swimming. Too old for soccer and camp and art and games and movies. We all out grow the neighborhood kids. Before you know it, it’s gone without a trace, like Tom pulling a rug out from under good old Jerry’s feet in thosde old cartoons we used to watch. And someway, somehow it’s no coincidence.