Yesterday afternoon I sat perched on a bench, nursing my cup
of coffee, feeling the sunshine soak into my skin. I sat observing and
listening to my surroundings, when I noticed a little boy prancing around,
followed by his mother. They walked into the library then stopped in front of
Star Fountain. The boy climbed up onto the edges of the fountain and started
walking around it, taking big, full steps while singing, “I’m free. I’m free as
can be in the waaater!” He walked around a few times, continuing to sing and
swing his arms as his mother stood there expressionless. She kept telling her
son, come on, come on, we have places to go, but he just kept dancing around
the fountain lost in his own little world. A few weeks ago I walked along the canal
downtown and saw a group of kids walking on a raised ledge near some steps. They
were so excited and yelled out, “Mom! Look at me! Woaaaah!!” In both instances,
these kids were so excited about life; just existing in a space where there was
a wall or fountain to climb, and the fact that they could climb it if they
wanted, brought them so much joy.
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| Me as a child. |
I oftentimes find myself completely enamored by children
because they are so free. This little boy was so happy and full of life by
simply walking around a fountain. I love that. Kids are so excited about living,
and they act upon their impulses to find excitement, then seek out
opportunities to do so. Children get so excited over the simplest things;
things that exist in the world already that we often don’t notice because we
are too distracted by our own lives. They explore these things in different
ways than adults because they don’t feel inhibited, and they don’t have to
worry about jobs, conflicts, making dinner, or paying bills. They see a wall
that seems good for climbing, so they climb it. They hear a tune in their head,
so they sing it. That’s such a beautiful thing. They’re still young enough that
they don’t know curse words, and the worst thing they can hear in a day is that
their favorite television show is playing a rerun tonight. (Do you even
remember the last time you didn’t say or hear a curse word? Wouldn’t it be
magical to revisit a time in your life when “shut up” was the meanest phrase
you knew?) As cliché as it sounds, they don’t know the realities of the world
yet, and I’m jealous of that. I still don’t know many harsh realities, but I
oftentimes wish I knew fewer than I do. I wish I was so innocent and free that
climbing up on a wall would stir up so much excitement inside me that I’d have
to call out so someone could see me and share in my joy.
I enjoy being a 20-year-old, and I am aware that being my
age gives me more opportunities and knowledge than a 10-year-old, but I am a
little envious of childhood splendor and innocence. As a child, life seems so
grand and exciting, and every afternoon holds an adventure in your
neighborhood. This is still somewhat true in my present life, and I try to keep
my inner-child alive by wearing my Forever Lazy to class, or by talking to
strangers and asking people weird questions, but never again will walking and
singing around a modest-size fountain be the most dazzling part of my day. I
kind of wish it could be.
