It’s already September!
August was swallowed by visa paperwork, finding a place to live, and… life’s typical responsibilities. It actually takes quite a bit of time to get my thoughts together and publish a piece of writing I’m proud of. It’s difficult to find enough time to write these days. I now understand why writers go on ‘writers retreats’. Everyday life is just full of distractions.
I know I sound like a broken record, but I really am baffled by adult life. I still find it weird that I somehow got to ‘adult status’ without any obvious, identifiable moment. It still feels like I’m parading around acting like an adult when the little child inside is still there burning bright. Its like she’s tugging my arm demanding we play in the living room and imagine what it would feel like to be stuck in quicksand. I have to continuously tell her to please stop distracting me for I’m attempting to be a grown up and keeping up this behaviour is going to blow my cover.
I loved being a kid. I loved the challenge of crossing the monkey bars at recess, or a thrilling game of skip rope with my friends. Childhood was a time of pure mindfulness; I rarely fretted over the future or regretted past mistakes. When I was crossing the monkey bars at recess, nothing else mattered. Every single synapse of my brain was focused on propelling my body to the other side. Nowadays, the very aspect of staying present, even during an enjoyable activity, can be a struggle. Sometimes I feel like I can see the moment leaving even while it’s occurring, making me miss it and want it again before its even over.
I remember being around seven years old and watching TV with my family before bedtime. My mum would say, “okay, bath time! Which one of you is going to start the bath?”
My sister and I would look at each other and scream out “it’s your turn! No it’s your turn! I did it last night!”
None of us wanted to be the one to go upstairs alone, where all the lights would be off and all the ghosts would be, just to start the stupid bath. What was the point in having a bath anyway?! When it was my turn, I’d swallow hard and painfully look at my sister like this may be the last time you’ll ever see me…. I’d tiptoe through the hallway, turn on every single light on my way, start the bath and then bolt down the stairs so fast I would almost crash face-first into the floor.
After bath-time, my parents would put us both to bed. I remember one night, mum sat at my bedside, tucking me in. I said, “mum, I can’t wait to be an adult!” she pushed my hair back and asked me why. “Because when I’m an adult I can go to bed at anytime I want!” She smiled softly and said, “well honey, it’s not that great, trust me.”
‘Well….’ I thought, ‘you’re wrong mum, dead wrong.’
She was not wrong.
The other day, Mat and I paced around a wine store looking for the perfect bottle of wine to bring to a friend’s dinner party. I picked up a bottle and asked him if this would be a good bottle to bring. As I stood there I was brought back to a specific memory of my parents doing the exact same thing. I remembered wandering around the LCBO in Canada while my parents searched for the right bottle of whatever to bring to a dinner party. I’d look at them as if they were insane and moan that I was bored. The worst activity of all was grocery shopping. It almost felt like deliberate torture. I remember my mum saying, “let’s get ready, we have to go pick up some groceries” and my heart would sink. Tears would well up in my eyes and I’d scream and beg, please no mum! No! Not grocery shopping!
I don’t know why it made me so upset. It makes me laugh now to think about it. I wonder if one day, I’ll have kids who feel just as tortured as grocery shopping as I once did. If I do, I will make grocery shopping the most exciting adventure they have ever been on!
So with that, here’s to finding more room for letting our inner child roam free. Here’s to being playful, living in the moment, and enjoying life’s tiny pleasures along the way.
Happy first day of September everyone! ♥
“I believe that everyone else my age is an adult whereas I am merely in disguise.”
― Margaret Atwood
“That was when it was all made painfully clear to me. When you are a child, there is joy. There is laughter. And most of all, there is trust. Trust in your fellows.
When you are an adult…then comes suspicion, hatred, and fear. If children ran the world, it would be a place of eternal bliss and cheer.
Adults run the world; and there is war, and enmity, and destruction unending. Adults who take charge of things muck them up, and then produce a new generation of children and say, “The children are the hope of the future.” And they are right. Children are the hope of the future.
But adults are the damnation of the present, and children become adults as surely as adults become worm food.
Adults are the death of hope.”
― Peter David
“For children, childhood is timeless. It is always the present. Everything is in the present tense. Of course, they have memories. Of course, time shifts a little for them and Christmas comes round in the end. But they don’t feel it. Today is what they feel, and when they say ‘When I grow up,’ there is always an edge of disbelief—how could they ever be other than what they are?”
― Ian McEwan
“I am often accused of being childish. I prefer to interpret that as child-like. I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things. I tend to exaggerate and fantasize and embellish. I still listen to instinctual urges. I play with leaves. I skip down the street and run against the wind. I never water my garden without soaking myself. It has been after such times of joy that I have achieved my greatest creativity and produced my best work.”
~Leo F. Buscaglia, Bus 9 to Paradise
“The creative adult is the child who survived.”