Thursday, November 3, 2016

Wistful Memories (11/3/16)

She ripped the curtains open, staring out into the skies outside. 

"It's POURING!!!" She cried, closing them so that the sunshine left, leaving the room in darkness. A few scattered little flashes across the ceiling indicated lightning nearby, and the children all huddled in clumps across the bedroom floor. 

"Guys, don't be scared. There's nothing to be scared of. The storm won't be over for at least a hundred days." She assured her companions calmly. We could hear the rain pouring and the occasional thunderclap emitted from the sound machine on the floor by the dresser. Isaiah turned his walkie-talkie radio on and the sound of the weatherman's voice, although quiet, filled the room.

"Let me see that." She took it in hand and, despite her hard efforts to listen carefully, only caught about every other word.

"...temperature should stay under the 70's..."

 "OK guys," She announced. "The temperature should be under the 70's, so it'll probably be 80-something."

Lightning flashed again, and we all scurried for the bottom of their bunk-bed, covering out heads with the comforter.

"OK, we're safe here. Nothing can get us under here." 

2-year-old Judah shrieked and crawled over a few people to faceplant into my lap; I stroked his curly hair and laughed with him as he chuckled, although he didn't stay still for long before rolling around across the bed. We were warned about the imminent arrival of "Stormy Spiders", some dark and ominous creature of which a 5-year-old had more knowledge than the lot of us, and also informed that low-fives came before high-fives, to which I nodded and smiled and tried not to laugh at the randomness of it all.

Picture found via Pinterest
And... it was beautiful. The innocence, the candor, the eagerness for life and adventure, the pretending and playacting, however silly. Yes, the more silly it is, the better! I realized, there in that dark bedroom full of shrieking children, that I kind of miss it. Instead of being the one listening to the radio and alerting my friends to the onslaught that awaits us, I was the one on the side, holding my little friend and trying not to laugh and hurt their feelings. I know that, however much I join in on it in the future, I'll never have that back. I'm not grown up all the way, but I have grown up. My heart has changed since I was 5 years old in many ways, most of them for the better. 

But if I could have one thing back from those days, I would keep my innocence. My hopefulness, for although I have hope, it seemed to come easier then. The trust I used to give so freely... maybe it's better to be more careful, more cautious... but I do miss how life used to be when I was little and free.