I mourn for the way I could be amused by
tacky plastic toys when I was a child. I once had a
My Little Pony house, complete with movable baths and beds and
tiny fun pink things, but if I were to bring it out now I would think of it as
cheap and
temporary.
I mourn for the thrill of waking up on Christmas morning and finding my stocking, overflowing and stuffed with goodies.
I mourn for everyone that I have left behind me, whether intentionally or not. Letting you go was like ripping off a band-aid.