Not a Care in the World

When I was a child I used to lie down in the stream where our family camped fully clothed. I remember the freedom of seizing that cool moment on a hot summer’s day. I also used to climb way up high in the Linden tree that grew at the edge of a deep ravine in our back yard. The branches were close together so for me there was never any fear of falling. I savoured the perspective of being high up above the known world.

As the years passed I transitioned from being a child into a parent. I remember in my 20’s being worried about letting go of my child’s eye view of the world and I said to myself that my measure of not going beyond the point of no return into adulthood was whether I felt comfortable sitting on the curb at the corner of a street.

My children have been my greatest teachers in the art of rekindling childlike wonder. I have let myself be taken on journeys both petrifying and exhilarating across the tops of boulders and I have willingly stopped to bend down and discover the tiniest of worlds in tide pools. I have perfected crazy launches off the dock into the lake and experienced hours of going down deeper in the water than I was comfortable just to share my son’s excitement of venturing into the unknown depths.

Last year when my grandson was born, I found in him a new teacher. One of my favourite moments this summer was lying on the ground with him in his back yard watching the birds soar high above us. I had not a care in the world.

Look around. Is there a child in your life waiting to take you to places of unknown wonder? Are you still willing to sit on the curb?

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