I miss coming home, and my mom (already being home from work) yelling at me to drink milk or I wouldn't grow up to have strong bones. She'd make me a snack, and I'd finish the bare minimum of homework, rolling my eyes at six times seven and eight times four. I'd rush through the homework, because who cared about grades in fourth grade?

At exactly 5:00 p.m., my house phone would ring, an excited voice on the other side asking if I was ready to play outside — an offer even then, I knew I could never refuse.

And so my friends would "pick me up," and we'd race to the park because every one of us wanted the best swing in the swing set. Sometimes I'd win, other times I wasn't so lucky.

For years, we raced, we swung, we created different variations of tag. We shared more than just headphones, listening to the same songs over and over on our iPod shuffles. I can still taste a Fudgsicle from the ice cream truck, every time I listen to "Rush" by Aly and AJ. These were the moments that defined fourth grade, fifth grade, middle school. Too many times, I've found myself sitting on the A bus next to strangers, craving that school bus laughter and the promise of "see you tomorrow."

I miss a simpler time, where we'd ride our bikes until we could kiss the heat of the evening goodbye.

We knew it would never really be gone.

And soon, summer would end, the weekly new episodes of "Wizards of Waverly Place" would slowly cease to exist, and winter would settle in. No more running to the park and no more swinging. As a child though, I never felt the winter. Time seemed to be measured in just one summer after another. I guess I hold on to a string of pretty memories from my childhood, making it hard to enjoy today the same way I used to.

I wish I could still call my childhood friends on the house phone, asking them to play outside, even if it's for the last time. I wonder if every time they hear "Rush" playing somewhere, they think of yellow swings and my mismatched socks. I wish we had kept holding hands, instead of letting go somewhere along the way.

To my friends who walk different paths today: I hope sometimes you remember the secrets we whispered, staying up all night during sleepovers. I hope sometimes you remember the elementary school science fairs, middle school graduation, and our eighth-grade lunch table. I hope that sometimes, you find yourself missing me, too.