Like the passing of summer and fall into winter is the passing of childhood into adulthood. When the last shuddering leaves fall, a bare, shivering tree is left behind. What a sorrow to see the barren tree and compare it with its once-upon-a-time splendor. Unknowingly, a child slowly shakes off her beautiful leaves: her imagination and wonder, her ignorance and naïveté, her simple laughter and trust. Like a tree and its leaves, when the winter of adulthood arrives, a child loses many of her most precious attributes.
As all children are, I was born as a beam of stardust into an ever-darkening world. My sole existence was to shine light where none could have been found before. My divine calling was to bring beauty and laughter, a breath of unpolluted air, to the gasping, dying peoples of the land. The happiness of my childhood self was a contagious thing, bringing warmth to the coldest heart, allowing a smile to form on the stoniest of faces.
My fantasies encompassed elves and fairies, talking animals, dragons and magic swords, and other such impossibilities. Daydreams once became reality with such ease. With nothing more than a change of garments, I could become Pocahontas, creeping through the forest silently, talking with the animals, or a princess seeking out her own destiny instead of waiting for Prince Charming. Later, a treasure-seeker setting out upon a quest that would lead me to many an adventure, doubtless involving countless unicorns and tigers, or a swashbuckling pirate sailing the seven seas and fighting off creatures of the deep. The dreams of children are such.
My childhood was spent in such pleasurable activities as snowball fights and sledding and skiing in the winter, and hiking and bicycling and stargazing in the summer. Being home schooled allowed me to experience the world at my own pace. I devoured book after book and soaked up facts and vocabulary and fantastical images, and I grew like a tree planted on the bank of a river. The constant stream of sources that challenged my imagination was the source of many a make-believe magical adventure. How I dreamed and thought and philosophized! I made new discoveries about the world around me everyday.
The molting of childhood is not something that occurs all at once. It is a slow process. So slow you do not realize it has begun, you do not realize that you are being stripped of these gifts of imagination and wonder that had brought you such joy. Slowly, my interest in fantastical things began to fade. I no longer meditated on the language of dragons or the dwellings of Hobbits. I began to be interested in other things, politics, ideas, and my future. Childhood is the contentedness that comes with blissful ignorance. Adulthood is neither a certain age, nor a specific period of time. It is the realization of impossibility.
With impossibility comes the death of countless dreams. The fungus of the world, its darkness, its hate, latches hold of you. It is like a parasite, feeding off your lifeblood until there is nothing left but an empty shell. Fashion, public opinion, politics, society’s approval, all of these hold sway. An angel becomes tainted with the evil of the world. Hate, malicious intent, cruelty, these are not the habits of a child, they are the practice of adults. “Innocence” is a forgotten word.
Adulthood need not be such a time of sorrow and regret. Instead, let us remember our childhood. Let us recall our past naïveté and ask how it can aid us today. We must allow ourselves to remember what is most important: love, selflessness, and joy, in comparison with malice, greed, and absolute disregard for our fellow human beings. After all, seasons change, and winter does not have to last forever.
When I was a child I lived each day, yearning for a tomorrow that never came. When adulthood caught hold of me, I let it carry me without realizing the damage it could cause. What I did not realize was that my childhood was a gift that I had been given, a gift that I should cherish and remember and recall once in a while. A balance has been reached. I hold on to my sense of wonder, my curiosity. Although I can no longer create reality with only my imagination, I channel my creativity into worthy artistic pursuits. I chase liberty and independence, but I remember where I began. I set aside my childish ideas and dreams, but I continue to show a childlike love and acceptance to all who may cross my path. I believe in the goodness of human beings and trust in my fellow man. I continue to reach for my dreams, somewhere in the star-filled heavens where my journey once began.
