She grew up on a side of the road, where the church bells ring and strong love grows. She grew up good. She grew up slow, like American honey. Steady as a preacher. Free as a weed, couldn't wait to get goin, 'But wasn't quite ready to leave. So innocent, pure and sweet. American honey. There's a wild, wild whisper blowin' in the wind, Callin' out my name like a long lost friend. Oh I miss those days as the years go by, Oh nothing's sweeter than summertime and American honey

There is something about that song that makes me miss my childhood. It seriously gets my childhood to a tee. I miss my family. I miss my mother. I miss my father. I miss them both so much that sometimes I want to cry. I want that back, those times in the backyard picking honeysuckle off the vine. I wasn't always so stuck up. I don't know how I got this way. I don't know how I got to thinking that I was better than my parents...maybe not better, but how I was so much more civilized and I deserved so much more than them. I wasn't always so afraid to get dirty. I remember dirt covered faces and hands playing in the backyard with all my friends. I can't believe I was in such a rush to have it all pass me by, and now I would give anything to have it back.

I miss American Honey...