In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “When Childhood Ends.”
Looking back, I would say I was never forced to grow up in an instant. Instead I was allowed to explore being grown up and waver between childhood and adulthood. Even now I prefer to keep a large part of me in childhood. To me that means having joy, delight, awe, and wonder for the world. Childhood means seeing life with fresh and curious eyes. Childhood means questioning. Childhood means creating. Childhood means exploration. These are things I never want to lose.
I am also accustomed to the strange looks I get when I run barefoot through fields of wildflowers. When I run through fountains and sprinklers giggling, also barefoot. Always barefoot. I like the feeling of the earth beneath my feet. Digging in the ground with my bare hands, covering up the worms with dirt, letting a roly poly roll around in my palm. Climbing trees. Rolling down grassy hills. Chasing butterflies. Covered in mud, so much mud. Digging for sand crabs. Holding jellyfish. Dancing, random dancing, anywhere and everywhere. Smiles and laughter. If only more people could embrace this childlike stance.
And other childhood things I will always cherish: curling up in my mothers arms, being tucked in to bed at night, a kiss on the forehead, and lights out.