How much you’ve grown! How much you’ve changed!
I can still remember you as a wide-eyed child, just out of toddlerhood. Hesitant. Unwilling to let go of your mother’s warm embrace. Your father’s safe clasp.
There your parents stood, nervous and on edge, wondering how you would manage, whether you would make any friends, whether the other kids would be nice to you.
There was an innocence on your face. An enthusiasm, a zest for life. A desire to grab as much of life as you could with both hands.
You saw everything in the world for the beauty it held. If you saw the ugliness, the sordid mess that adults have made of the world, it didn’t cling to your mind.
You were much better behaved then. You got along with your classmates. When the inevitable disagreements took place, you sulked for a while and refused to shake hands or share toys with them.
Sometimes you hit people, but you learned to be sorry. And hug each other again.
I can still remember you as a wide-eyed child, just out of toddlerhood. Hesitant. Unwilling to let go of your mother’s warm embrace. Your father’s safe clasp.
There your parents stood, nervous and on edge, wondering how you would manage, whether you would make any friends, whether the other kids would be nice to you.
There was an innocence on your face. An enthusiasm, a zest for life. A desire to grab as much of life as you could with both hands.
You saw everything in the world for the beauty it held. If you saw the ugliness, the sordid mess that adults have made of the world, it didn’t cling to your mind.
You were much better behaved then. You got along with your classmates. When the inevitable disagreements took place, you sulked for a while and refused to shake hands or share toys with them.
Sometimes you hit people, but you learned to be sorry. And hug each other again.
But your memory was a sieve when it came to negative experiences. You didn’t hold on to them. Before you knew it, you were playing with the same kids again.
It’s as you grow older that you can’t seem to let go of slights and differences of opinion.
When you were afraid, you held hands. You asked for help. You cried out.
When you didn’t know something, as complex as stringing beads together on an abacus, writing out letters or reciting rhymes, you learned it.
Drawing and singing and painting and studying and being loved and appreciated for who you are, not what you did, formed the apex of happiness for you.
My fondest memory of you is of the seriousness with which you went about being joyful. About rejecting sadness.
A loving person had the power to kiss your boo-boos away.
You could start talking with another child just like that. You didn’t waste precious time wondering who was going to introduce you. And just why should you be the one to always make the first move.
I’ve seen generations of children cross through my portals and it never ceases to surprise me how beautiful is the font of childhood.
I’ve taught you many things. But you’ve taught me far more than that.
If only you stayed so innocent and joyful all your lives.
It’s as you grow older that you can’t seem to let go of slights and differences of opinion.
When you were afraid, you held hands. You asked for help. You cried out.
When you didn’t know something, as complex as stringing beads together on an abacus, writing out letters or reciting rhymes, you learned it.
Drawing and singing and painting and studying and being loved and appreciated for who you are, not what you did, formed the apex of happiness for you.
My fondest memory of you is of the seriousness with which you went about being joyful. About rejecting sadness.
A loving person had the power to kiss your boo-boos away.
You could start talking with another child just like that. You didn’t waste precious time wondering who was going to introduce you. And just why should you be the one to always make the first move.
I’ve seen generations of children cross through my portals and it never ceases to surprise me how beautiful is the font of childhood.
I’ve taught you many things. But you’ve taught me far more than that.
If only you stayed so innocent and joyful all your lives.
Took me back to my KG days. Kids are so uncluttered in their minds and actions. Life happens as we grow-up :( Enjoyed reading this.
ReplyDeleteI wrote something similar today for K. I wish I could go back to being a child. :)
ReplyDeleteI can't really remember my KG days. Such a innocent phase of our lives.
ReplyDeleteGreat post and the world would be a much better place if we all thought like a child.
ReplyDeleteCynthia, I hope they give you an award for this line:
ReplyDeleteMy fondest memory of you is of the seriousness with which you went about being joyful.
... you said so much so simply!
A v.beautiful post Cynthia :-)
ReplyDeleteI keep reminding my son of his days in kindergarten, and how he's changed since then. Nice writing of this post. It made me think of those days. AtoZer http://www.writer-way.blogspot.com
ReplyDeleteEvery heart is clean during childhood later we grow :( bful post Cynthia ! loved it
ReplyDeleteEven KG speaks. true
Kindergarten memories... sweet & poignant...
ReplyDeleteVisiting via the A to Z challenge. Nice to meet you.
Writer In Transit
Super! Those were the days of innocence and of being wide-eyed believers. Sigh! They all have to grow up though.
ReplyDelete