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TO BE SIX AGAIN
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 Smarties are better than money, because you can eat them. I want to play kick-ball during breaks.
I long for the days when life was simple. When all you knew were your colours, the addition tables & 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 complications 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 & 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.