ivanagasparic

I still remember my seven year old feet jumping and racing around gardens, soaking up the sun as much as they could. I remember the smell of freshly cut grass, the rough feel of trees under my fingers, and the scratches on my hands. The soft touch of gravel mixed with cold water of a creek near my grandparents house, pants lifted up to my knees, sweet flavour of summer fruit leaking over tongues and between my sticky fingers.
So far away from those summers is this town I'm in now, all in rows of buildings and houses. Everything is in shades of white and green and gray, the floor tiles in the kitchen, the bed sheets, the buildings, the people. Because of that, I wanted to study graphic design because I wanted to work in an office with designer desks, ergonomic chairs, pool tables, and colorful walls. But I ended up in medical school. I don’t regret it though, I think. This way I could be actually making a difference, helping other people.
My forehead is starting to get wrinkled from all the frowning I do because of some of my other life choices though. You’d hardly notice it because all the wrinkles on my shirt would distract your attention from my face.