summer of my 1994

I read stories hoping for an answer to questions I haven't asked in the past or help in discerning the future.
I put the clean dishes away staring at the pretty hand-me-down dishes from my cousin wondering if I'm really leaving them behind.
I realize how much I miss the prairie and how much I'm going to miss the mountains.
I realize how restless I am.
I'm still as bruised and scratched up this summer as I was when I was seven.
I still fall off rope swings and scar easily.
Nobody swims in sloughs in North Dakota.
I listen to Alanis Morissette or twee; wish I had a boom box so I could tape more Incubus songs off the radio; buy long, flowy skirts at thrift stores and consider buying purple lipstick or making myself some chokers.
Chokers aren't flattering on me.
Wonder if having my hair long again will be the same as the few times before, wonder if I'll actually punch someone this time or just simmer in suspicion and annoyance.
I've never punched anyone.
I'm looking at people differently than I have in the recent past.
I continue to be pleased with growing older and having a greater feeling of joy each successive year. However: mind blown that it's 6 July 2011.
Wasn't it May yesterday? And August the day before that?
There are some things you can't thank people for.