Nostalgia in Cologne

Spring is without a doubt my favorite time of year. It's warm, but not hot. I can go biking for several hours before its dark without having to wear multiple layers of clothing. Spring is the time to jump on the trampoline then run across the yard, barefoot, into the pergola. My favorite part of spring is the sunset. Sitting next to my father and brother silently brings a sense of tranquility I crave all year round; I feel accepted into the world of my older brother, and appreciated by my dad. I also really like the aroma of my father's pipe. And Old Spice. The problem with spring, however, is that it is too nostalgic. I feel like I should be five years old, nuzzling into my father or mother's chest as the sunsets, while a cool breeze blows my hair. I mean, I still do that, but there is a difference. I am older, two years shy of adulthood. Well, the literal meaning of adulthood. Really I am simply Peter Pan. I will never grow old, I will forever be a child, at least during springtime.