I wrote something the other day, just some thoughts as I sat drinking a coffee. Thought I would share it here… be kind, I’m not a writer by nature…
There is something fascinating about kids.
I was sitting in Beanscene on Cresswell Lane the other day. The place is a heaving mass of families, students and grannys. A father and daughter enter – she cannot be more than 3 years old, in her pretty pink overcoat, wolly hat and oversized sunglasses. She stands holding her juice as dad orders a coffee. Beside her are a group of 3 young women, one with a child of 2 or 3 years old.
The young girls are captivated by each other. There is something so beautiful about their childlike innocence. They stand eyeing each other up – taking in everything about the other – the sunglasses, the hat, the Winnie The Pooh tee, the crumbs around the mouth, the identical pigtails.
There is no shame in this, no fear.
I once heard it said that growing up is the ability to wear masks. We learn to hide our feelings and expressions. This is the joy of children: they have not yet learnt to do this. Their face says it all – the delight, the curiosity, the anticipation, the sadness.
They live as we were meant to live.