Innocence

The sun looks at me as though through a mirror. I sit and look at the colours dance amongst the browns of the mud puddle. The sun shines, the wind blows, the trees grow, I sit. A bird darts to my left collecting debris for its nest. I watch as it scours the area for something appropriate, something that is good enough to cradle its young. It clutches what looks like a few pieces of hay in its beak and flies off into the white and blue. My eyes are caught by the clouds hanging lazily overhead. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, simply hanging there providing shade. I look down, the dancing colours are gone.

In the distance I can hear a child's laughter ringing out amongst the buildings. I can't see them but I can remember them. My mind wanders, the sun shines, the trees grow. I'm awed by the height of the trees and how cool it feels walking amongst their brown sturdy trunks. Earlier in the day we packed our lunches, grabbed some water and prepared for our adventure we headed off. We walked north towards our friends house and then into the woods behind where my uncle used to live. It was easy walking, the woods weren't too thick and the ground was fairly even. After about 20 minutes we reach the stream and begin following it upstream.

It's such a wonderful day. The sun shines through the leafy canopy above casting alternating patches of light and dark upon the ground around us. We fan out and simply take in the life around us, stopping periodically to investigate something new. A fish swims by to cheers of delight. We walk for what seems like forever before stopping to eat some lunch. The sun is high in the sky but it is nice and cool here shaded in the woods. We continue to treck upstream occasionally chasing squirels, pointing out fish or picking up various oddities to show our parents back home.

I'd never been this far before, it all looks so strange and new. For once I was Magellan or Columbus seeing something new and wonderous. We reach a clearing lit up by the bright sunshine. It seems weird to see this island of grass amongst the trees but the sun feels warm on our cheeks and necks. We continue upstream and there it was, my first waterfall. It wasn't big or unique but it was new and wonderous. It fed a small pool which in turn fed the stream that we had been following. We all stop and watch the waterfall and the pool beneath. We see fish swimming below us, speckeled trout someone says. We sit for what seems like hours around our new waterfall, watching the fish. Eventually we decide we should continue on, its getting late.

We reach a dirt road after a while and decide to follow it. After a while we see things that are familiar but different. It brings us out near the big hill which we sled down in the winter but is now teeming with grass, birds and insects. We head home our minds filled with stories and memories. Our big adventure into the wild. It was ours. It was mine.

Years later I went back after we had moved away. They had built more houses so that the stream ran through peoples back yards. They didn't like it when I walked through to the stream and into the woods. It wasn't as big as I had remembered, it all seemed so different. The wonder was gone, the simple joy and amazement was gone. My childhood innocence had been diminished. I found my waterfall and smiled at the memories that the three feet of falling water conjured in my mind. I continued on to the dirt road, which by this point had been fenced off and followed it down to our old sled hill. It too had been fenced off, kids no longer got to play here in the winter, feeling the wind and snow sting their faces as they sped down the hill.

I sit and notice the smile that had settled over my face. I listen as the children's laughter echoes amongst the buildings and I find myself jealous of their joy. There I sit, an adult, jaded and cynical. Innocence lost and seeming incapable of simple joy. My eyes begin to tear at the loss. My mind instinctively tells me to stop. I say no. The tears trace their lines down my cheeks. Tears are appropriate. People cry when something dies. People cry when something dear is lost. People should cry when they finally realize that they can't go back to the innocence and wonder that is childhood. People should cry when they realize that they have lost the ability to lose themselves in the wonder of things small. I hope you don't have to cry as I have.