I am high in a treehouse in Bali Indonesia sipping on some tap water from the sink. The sky is cloudy on the verge of rain. Taylor Swift's “You Belong With Me” song is playing in the background. It makes me think about when I was a child and life was simple. If you had a crush on Sam the neighbor you could go up and kiss him with no explanation of why. Or when you would read books of unicorns thinking they were real. I just want the world to pause when I say WAIT rather than it all flying by. All we have is our memories like the ones at the dinner table when grandma says “pass the butter” or when your family goes swimming with manatee calfs. Now it is what feels like 1,095,820 days later and I am getting ready to finish college where all my ambitious goals  towards becoming an orthodontist are coming to life. Now I am alone staring out onto Lake Michigan looking up from my book about Helen Keller. Now I am wearing what everyone is wearing these days including my burgundy red Chuck Taylor Converse. I tell the seagulls “Hola, buenos días.” That's when I realize that it is time for breakfast and I should head back to the house. The Frida Kalha painting is hanging above the mantel and there is a side of bacon by my plate. A wrinkled hand reaches out and touches mine. I look up into the eyes of my future self and she says “You gotta make some more memories brotha.”