Remember wonder? Adrenaline? Passion? Awe?
Remember the lurch of your stomach as the wheels lift off the ground, as the world stretches away? Remember the clouds?
Remember the feel of icy snow stinging your cheeks as you slice down the ski hill? Remember the speed of your heart beat?
Remember opening the kitchen windows, blasting the radio, and dancing in the pouring rain? Remember the soaked shoes and the laughter?
Remember the wetness on your cheeks as the song beats to the rhythm of your heart? Remember how it stung in all the right ways?
Remember your heartbeat as you stare at the lake far below? Remember clambering up the cliff, the feeling of nothing beneath you for so long, the explosion of water around you?
Remember the warmth of the improvised soup bubbling on the stove? Remember the construction-paper chef hats, taped together like your struggling friendship?
For goodness’ sake, don’t stop! Don’t stop making wishes on dandelions and shooting stars and eyelashes and planes that look like stars. Don’t stop laughing; don’t stop crying.
Don’t stop remembering.
And for goodness’ sake, don’t leave the window shades down on the airplane.