It was not so long ago (or so it seems) that I was just a mere child. Now I am (happily) weighted by responsibility and schedules and many, many demands. Sometimes these responsibilities I view more as burdens though they are really blessings I would never voluntarily unburden myself of. After all, I love my life and glory in the details of it— most of the time. With the number of children that live with me, I have ample opportunity to observe their workings and daily machinations though I do not often enough just sit back and watch them as the magnificent creations that they are as much as I should. I have a great deal to learn from them.
As my shoulders tighten through the day with stress aggravating my “I wish I could_____” thoughts, I muse what my life would be like if I were to become more like a child again. I wonder if my stress would be a great deal less than it is now if only I would live out what I have listed below.
I would rest at night peacefully and thoroughly, not anxious about meaningless things, content that all my basic needs will be taken care of. I’d awaken wondering what surprises were in store for me, thinking maybe only as far as breakfast and note whether it was sunny enough to play outdoors.
Unexpected visitors, bugs, stray dogs and unusual goings-on would be greeted as happy surprises and met with loud excitement. My small attention span would leave plenty of room for things to just come up on the schedule without stress of bumping other things off to another day. I’d be happy just to do something new and unusual, fearlessly! People like the mailman, our neighbors, and the neighborhood dogs would be prominent in my thoughts and tops on my list of subjects to observe from the safety of my tree.
I would hug a lot more people-- just because I really like them.
I would examine my environment to find what entertainment I could create for myself. I would more often stand under the long arms of a tree in awe of the majestic creation that they are: collecting their leaves as blankets for fairies, their twigs and branches for use as ship’s masts and hobo knapsack holders just in case I ever needed one. I would collect pretty rocks and anything that remotely looked like an arrow head. The lot of creation I would see as mine to explore and worthy of LOADS of questions. The man in the moon would be an endless source of fascination- just who is he? Does he have a name?
I might often feel the urge to spontaneously draw with crayons, rearrange my room, squish playdoh, run wildly into the wind, make precious objects found in the trash, and pretend more- letting my mind drift around everywhere.
I would be less worried about clothes on the floor, the magnetism of horizontal surfaces to loads of things and dust, and whether my hair was brushed. All gifts would be treasured and stowed safely (somewhere) in my room- best placed in a box inside another box, hidden under something else as a keepsake. They would be precious because of who gave it to me and I would never want to throw it away because they made me feel special.
I wouldn’t give a hoot about practicality or cost. I’d be more willing to experiment- with what I wear, how I talk, what I mix together on my plate, with what friends I like and what my new favorite activity might be. I would do what I wanted to do and eat just what I wanted to eat regardless of the cost or whether it made sense. I might just eat only things that are red one day.
Sometimes I would cry just because.
I wouldn’t worry so much about how I look. I’d smile at myself in the mirror. A lot.
I have no wish to become a child again, but I do wish to live a bit more in the moments, fascinated and grateful for each new, beautiful day.
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