There was a time when afternoons stretched wide and endless—when the only task at hand was play. We gathered on sidewalks, playgrounds, or soft patches of grass, and the simplest games became whole worlds of joy.
Pick-Up-Sticks scattered like shooting stars on the pavement, each turn a test of patience, precision, and a little bit of laughter when someone’s hand trembled.
Tic-Tac-Toe scribbled in chalk or scratched in dirt reminded us that strategy could be playful, that even “X” and “O” carried the thrill of victory and the humility of trying again.
Tag was freedom in its purest form—feet pounding, wind in our hair, the exhilaration of being chased or chosen, the delight of touching another and declaring, “You’re it!”
And then there was Hopscotch—chalked grids where we learned balance, rhythm, and how to leap into possibility. One square to the next, our bodies moved like joy itself.
These games weren’t just games. They were lessons in friendship, in imagination, in the unspoken understanding that life could be both simple and profound.
Gratitude
Today, I’m grateful for the freedom of play, for the laughter of friends, for sidewalks that became playgrounds, and for the reminder that joy doesn’t need to be complicated—it only needs to be shared.