I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult, in
order to accept the responsibilities of a 6 year old.
The tax base is lower. I want to be six again. I want to go to
McDonald's and think it's the best place in the world to eat.
I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make waves with
rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money, because you
can eat them. I want to play kickball during recess and stay up on
Christmas Eve waiting to hear Santa and Rudolph on the roof.
I long for the days when life was simple. When all you knew were
your colors, the addition tables and simple nursery rhymes, but it
didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and
you didn't care. I want to go to school and have snack time,
recess, gym and field trips.
I want to be happy, because I don't know what should make me upset.
I want to think the world is fair and everyone in it is honest and
good. I want to believe that anything is possible.
Sometime, while I was maturing, I learned too much. I learned of
nuclear weapons, prejudice, starving and abused kids, lies, unhappy
marriages, illness, pain and mortality.
I want to be six again. I want to think that everyone, including
myself, will live forever, because I don't know the concept of
death. I want to be oblivious to the complexity of life and be
overly excited by the little things again.
I want television to be something I watch for fun, not something
used for escape from the things I should be doing. I want to live
knowing the little things that I find exciting will always make me
as happy as when I first learned them. I want to be six
again.
I remember not seeing the world as a whole, but rather being aware
of only the things that directly concerned me. I want to be naive
enough to think that if I'm happy, so is everyone else. I want to
walk down the beach and think only of the sand beneath my feet and
the possibility of finding that blue piece of sea glass I'm looking
for.
I want to spend my afternoons climbing trees and riding my bike,
letting the grownups worry about time, the dentist and how to find
the money to fix the old car.
I want to wonder what I'll do when I grow up and what I'll be, who
I'll be and not worry about what I'll do if this doesn't work out.
I want that time back.
I want to use it now as an escape, so that when my computer
crashes, or I have a mountain of paperwork, or two depressed
friends, or a fight with my spouse, or bittersweet memories of
times gone by, or second thoughts about so many things, I can
travel back and build a snowman, without thinking about anything
except whether the snow sticks together and what I can possibly use
for the snowman's mouth.
I want to be six again.
