There is something magical about children, that I cannot replicate within myself. Only children can do it. It is a feeling of happiness that I miss. Those times when, if you work diligently and patiently, you can see the click of sudden recognition on their faces. The wonder of brand new understanding. Children are learners naturally. I am a learner who loves to teach. Children are miracles.
There is more than just learning. There is joy. The joy that they feel just being close to someone they trust. That trust is, all too soon, thrust away by time and harsh people. There is nothing quite so protective in me, as the protective instincts I have for children. Any children. All children. I want to mend the broken ones and prepare the unbroken ones, so they can learn to bend and not break.
I long to find the child inside people, who do not realize they have children inside them. Show them that there is time for play, for sudden joy. There is not this need of greed, of taking. That the choice to share begins with them.
I want to show them that work need not be their only thing. There is rest, happy rest. Happy playful moments that working too much neglects. There is a time when the soul needs hands. Needs warm necks and giggles under blankets. There is nothing childish about being a child. Being a child is magical.
I have never completely grown up. I want to stay this way, so I can be the teacher. So, I can show the way back.
Today is the day.
Be magical. Do something brave and hopeful. Something a child would trust to happen. Fall in love. Fall into joy. Trust, just once, the instinct to speak and make friends. Say hello and put your love out in the world.
Be, just for a moment, childlike and brave.
Today is the day.
Step forward and find your inner child waiting. There is always a second chance.