It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day, I remember it clearly enough — I remember the first time, I saw you, standing at the edge of the playing field, Your small figure against the wide, open sky. I watched as you hesitated, then ran, Your feet pounding the earth, eager, free, The sound of your laughter ringing in my ears, I knew then that everything was about to change. That moment, so vivid, so fleeting — I could feel the weight of time pressing down, The inevitable drift apart, the loss of innocence, The quiet understanding that childhood was slipping away, Yet, I held onto that image, that hope, That someday, you might return to me, Not as a child, but as someone who had learned to fly.