To the children who have never second-guessed themselves, who are still playing kick the can in the front yard:
Next time you go outside and are blinded by the sun, I hope you memorize the white dots that blur your vision as the green grass comes into focus
And when you get on that swing and pump your legs and seesaw your body until your hair nearly touches the ground as you lean back, never forget that little flip in your stomach
Those harmless, disorienting moments are the very things that paralyze us as we age
Whereas the child does not look at a watch to see meeting time availability, they only see how many hours until the sun sets on their make-believe play
Kicking off shoes, children do this with a ferocity that can only lead you to believe that there is something intoxicatingly exciting waiting in the next room, when in reality it's simply the opportunity to move to the next activity
This uninterrupted and uninhibited way of moving, stands in stark contrast to those of us who shed childhoods long ago and drag our feet across the carpet, readying ourselves for the next task, the anti-enthusiasm almost as tangible as the mundane cafeteria food
Dear child, don't set your sights on grey suits and button downs just yet, of driving yourself around on a tight schedule,
Because those very people who seem untouchable to the young mind are the ones taking lessons from the ageless joy of children and studying the neighborhood frolic, envying the lightheartedness youth emit like the blinding sun
Children watch the adults as the adults watch the children
When will we teach them that they are teaching us?
When will we teach them that they are teaching us?