My childhood was awesome. I can still vividly remember all the carefree days and nights of summer where all the kids from the block would play kickball and four square till the street lights came on. It was definitely the good ol’ days.
Now being 20 I miss my childlike quality of my youth. [Although I still am a sucker for a jungle gym and can never resist a swing set] But the innocence and inhibition of being a child has slowly gone away as I’ve grown up. At 18 my mother jokingly bought me a Barbie’s dream house for Christmas. I decided it would be a waste not to open it at least once before sending it to the attic – so I called my best friend and we decided to open it up. After of hours on the floor I realized several things.
It was definitely more fun now for me and my best friend to figure out how to build it, rather than actually play with it. Which was directly related to the fact that I realized that I no longer knew how to play pretend.
This made me so sad. Where had my creativity gone? Why was it so easy back then? Was I just not afraid of what to say and not to say that I just said anything that came to my mind – or was I actually forgetting the art of playing pretend.
On the same note – as a child I had not one but three imaginary friends [Orey, Pete, and John]. It is still amazing to me (and my parents) how I was able to create three full and distinct people in my head. I wish I could still channel that inner child and loose the worry about if an idea or thought is any good and just have and say it anyways. I wish I could go back to that wonderful fantasyland of being a child.
I think I’ll swing today.
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