I miss when every house didn’t look like a Pinterest image.
I miss the days of reusing furniture and items we happened to have around.
I miss calling landlines and people being present on each call.
I miss taking pictures and showing people in person.
I miss feeling rebellious wearing mis-matched socks.
I miss unmatched plates and cups and spoons.
I miss makeup being silly and not changing our faces.
I miss hairstyles being admired for being wacky instead of perfect.
I miss laughing at old clothes, but secretly wanting them back in fashion.
I miss having so many keyrings that it was hard to find the key.
I miss writing things that nobody else sees.
I miss taking photos and not knowing how they would develop.
I miss discussions where you had no answer at your fingertips.
I miss children’s laughter on the streets.
I miss parents giving out lollies to the whole street.
I miss throwing a ball at a kerb.
I miss long walks to nowhere.
I miss picking flowers without being told off.
I miss making bug homes out of ice cream tubs.
I miss learning about people slowly instead of reading profiles and posts.
I miss the news showing positive stories.
I miss making potions in the garden.
I miss visits to the library to learn.
I miss nagging for coins and running to the ice cream van.
I miss sitting in the bedroom with headphones on blasting music.
I miss learning lyrics from magazine cut outs.
I miss developing life skills from magazines.
I miss cups of tea with the neighbours all standing in our gardens.
I miss the excitement of going shopping and leaving with only hope.
I miss falling off bikes, from trees, down hills.
I miss baking from books and uneven cakes.
I miss trying to record music from the radio live, only to always miss the beginning or be interrupted by the DJs.
I miss filming with a camcorder over and over until we got it right.