i just had a wonderful conversation with a little girl. she’s three. she told me so with her fingers and thumb. we sat in a coffee shop that smells of rosemary and stories, giggling at each other.
a beautiful, little girl in a blue and white checkered dress, her brown hair pulled tight on top of her head where a frangipani peered through. her smile enormous, her eyes bright.
we played games with no words. and we laughed and laughed and laughed.
i’ll laugh until my heart explodes.
tears blurred my vision as i clutched my sides and choked on the words i hopelessly attempted to form; nonsensical broken sentences, parts of words spluttered between a gasping of air and spurts of silent laughter.
and as i bounced up and down, the welling in my eyes overflowed, streaming down my face and leaving a residue of dry, gritty, salt on my cheeks.
in that moment, i felt a giddiness i hadn’t known in years. a reminder of how wonderful it is to be simply and knowingly happy.
you’re so innocent, naive, fragile, when you’re young.
waiting for grazed knees and scarred elbows after learning to walk, run and ride a bike…learning that sometimes you fall over. sometimes and many times.
you think about toys and watch moral-of-the-story tv shows. you get cooties and you get chicken pox and you have bath time and you have nap time. you drink milk. you play: cops and robbers; with barbies; in a tree house.
then you grow up and you have this capacity to learn and soak up extraordinary amounts of knowledge.
it happens all of a sudden. you become old enough to think for yourself, make decisions, choose your fate. and that’s how it is.
no one’s keeping score. this isn’t win/lose. this is try your heart out. go, do, be, feel.