The Resident Child

Once, when I was about nine, it was raining when my aunt and I alighted from the bus. Home was quite a distance away and neither of us had brought an umbrella. My aunt decided we should head home regardless. It was brilliant! Sure, it was shockingly cold for the first few minutes when I stepped into the rain but once I was completely drenched, it became pleasantly warm. I walked deliberately into puddles, kicked at it and splashed around, marveling at how fun it was to squelch in wet shoes. It was so freeing to embrace what could have been an uncomfortable experience with such wild abandonment.

That child who played in the rain is still in me. She awakens every time I hear a certain song or when I smell a scent I can’t quite place or when I see dust motes dancing in a shaft of light. She’s the one that looks out at the world and sees it for all the enchantment it holds. She runs around and be loud, sings and dances on the pavement, creates art. She makes my steps jauntier, my heart gladder and I am a little bit braver because of her.

So, today, let us take the time to celebrate our inner child. Nurture them with the things they used to do, the things they loved so that they may continue to touch our lives with wonder.