In between Vegas and San Antonio (and now Denver) my good friend Carly sent me a link in reference to one of our conversations about the magic and wonderment of being a child (or child-like), and how we start to lose that at a certain point in our lives. Here’s the link to the post.
Even if you don’t have enough time to read thru it, I’ll sum it up for ya: its a quote from the book ‘Boy’s Life’, about how we are told to grow up as soon as society decides it is time.
I can admit I’m guilty of leaving my childhood behind, and getting so serious about being an adult that I forget how magical and amazing some places, things and experiences are for us, as children. Not to be confused with how amazing things are for us as adults, but in much simpler circumstance. I was reminded of this enchantment while hanging out with my niece and nephew this weekend, at the museum.
Take air travel, for example. Today I’m flying out of DFW on my way to Denver. I never take for granted the benefit (or perks) of being able to travel for my job, but what I did start to lose enchantment for was the experience—the simplest details. So once I was at the gate, I put away my phone and laptop, and watched the baggage crew load bags. I wondered about their conversations with each other. Without any audible dialog I assumed they were just having bro-talk.
When we pulled away from the gate I imagined how their morning would start.
Do they drive up the tarmac in a good mood, excitedly anticipating the day ahead of them?
Is it odd that I’ve never pondered that question before? Is it odd that I’m pondering it now?
Is it unimportant to wonder about someone else’s life, or where their from and where they’re going?
Questions that I would never have considered paramount on an average day at the airport.
As we taxied down the runway the captain made the announcement for the flight attendants to prepare the cabin. I wondered if the crew and the captain get along? Are they friends? Or do they just simply work for the same company?
Upon take-off I watched as the ground moved thousands of feet away from us; which I hadn’t done in a while. The now tiny jetway bridges stuck out like the legs of a metal centipede, snaking around the airfield, just waiting to receive the line of travelers into the belly of the Terminal; and then it registered what I’d really been missing. We’re all missing that juncture in life that we leave behind. That stage of this short lifespan when we couldn’t care less about how long it takes for everyone to board, or if you have enough legroom. By now I’m usually plugged into my jam-sesh (wrapped in a pashmina) and fast asleep before the safety briefing has even started. I wonder, who persuaded me to disconnect from the chaos and drown out the enchantment?
Well…my adult self, that’s who.
I’ve had multiple revelations in the past 3 years, about how I’ve been walking thru life slightly unconscious. And after leaving a less than fulfilling relationship a few months back I wondered, how long had I been under the influence of another person’s lackluster feelings towards life? The whole time? Half the time? When did I start to lose the curiosity and excitement that accompanies that sense of wonderment?
But…this is not about regret. Its about new beginnings — and the promise of more — because now the only one who’s holding the child in me captive is me.
I landed in Denver and took the familiar path down to baggage claim, but this time…instead…I skipped a little, smiled more, and felt grateful for the newly discoverable things that lay ahead of me this week. Like….climbing those mountains