“The most sophisticated people I know – inside they are all children. ” ― Jim Henson
A while ago, I stumbled upon an old tune. Mellifluous as it was powerful. The strongest feeling of ambivalence had seeped between that which had been sealed long ago, broken and torn. My innocence. Such a pity to lose. A treasure that once withheld, must be preserved. That much I’ve seen. And now… it’s gone. Another wisp in the frigid air, and I alone got rid of this. I caused this loss. This emptiness of self. The lengthy pauses that were bliss.
Where as a child you could climb up to a small mound of dirt, and imagine it were Mordor, or Mount Everest. Where rain and dirt were means of toys no one else could capture, except for you. For Faeries and Elves lived underground, Griffins and Pegasus’ were always within your peripheral vision. Your confidant was a thin-built child whom no one understood, or saw, but only you. They had spherical brown eyes, blew fire and flew and knew your deepest secrets. You’d hide within decrepit structures, and wander through the Enchanted forests. You’d skitter across puddles, and giggle without end. Wound hands with a strange little child, and let go when you found he was in fact a boy. Build forts with crumpled sheets, and made plans to destroy the netherlands under the cover of night, the dim light of a candle flickering nearby, and you’d be joined by your fellow comrades.
You spun around in circles, trampling accidentally over your dear mother’s garden, and try to repair the damage, tears making their way into your eyes. Realized you’ve just destroyed the precious lives. Ran from a stampede of wild creatures. Hid under thick lashes and flushed when you stole your first innocent kiss under the mistletoe, all because a little boy tricked you. Hugged without remorse. Traced a finger across father’s hands, and smile from ear to ear.
Petals would drift to the floor, just as you did. The years took it all away. You stand here, and it’s all memories, produced filmstrips hanging from a thin string. You wish for it. Just as you would when you were a child. But, nothing happens. You remain here, stuck between decisions and studies. Mortgages and taxes. Credit cards and college loans.
You wonder if you could innocent become again, what would you do? What if you regained innocence? Would you treasure it? Clutch it close to your beating heart. Pray you’ll never let it go. Find familiar smiles and build fortresses just as you would before. Run from the monster under your bed, and not your problems? What if…