The lake spread out endlessly before me, containing a serenity which I envied as I sank into the sand at the small lake town beach. Water rushed up to greet my feet, leaving my skin with a refreshed feeling as the wave raced back towards the endless shimmering mirror of the lake. Our lives are just like waves, I thought. One moment, we're rushing higher and higher until we think we're about to hit the stars, and then the next moment life falls into the depths of the ocean. A ripple of laughter broke through my thoughts and echoed across the beach from where a couple of kids were playing in the sand. The sounds tugged me back to my childhood when my two older sisters and I would build sandcastles, jump over waves, and return to the campground with sunburnt noses and inerasable smiles. I warmed at the fond memory, wishing I could jump back to those careless days. A black splotch of a bug puttered over my leg, drawing my attention. As its miniscule legs took small, determined steps across my skin, I fought the urge to swat it away. Watching it, I wondered what life might feel like if it were as brief as this tiny insect's lifespan. We would probably have a completely different perspective on life and how we wanted to use our preciously few moments. My mind began to wander again as I watched the sun slowly set. The faint energetic sounds of a long-forgotten song intruded upon my mental reflection, and I was carried back once more in time to church camp years ago as a kid, learning the steps to a dance and joyfully messing up each step. I could still hear the music, see the dance steps, and feel the joy of messing up as if I were in that moment again. Then it hit me. An overwhelming feeling of loss swept over me. It came to me that childhood was now a word of the past. I could never go back to those golden days, ones which I had not even noticed were so priceless in the moment. The song faded and was replaced by another song, but my mind was still a whirlpool of thoughts. When I think of the word childhood, images of me and my sisters innocently swinging on our beaten-up swing set, a sharp but comforting feeling of scraped knees, the cold, slippery taste of orange popsicles, and the smell of fluffily golden pancakes greeting my nose in the morning come to mind. These were all things that I could view as if watching a movie, or looking at old photos, but could never step into or recreate. I was hit with a tidal wave of grief, realizing I had never known the true significance of how irretrievable childhood really was. Another cold, clear wave drowned my feet, bringing me back from the undertow of forgotten moments. As all the streams of my thoughts connected, I contemplated again of how our lives went up and down like a wave, and it occurred to me that even though I could never return to that carefree world, I could still keep those memories close and use them as a stepping stool, so when the wave of life recedes, I'll stand a little taller, lifted by the memories which shaped me.