I am hereby officially
tendering my resignation as an adult, in order to accept the
responsibilities of a six 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 M&Ms are better
than money, because you can eat them. I want to play kickball
during recess and stay up on Christmas Eve waiting to hear Santa
and Rudolph on the roof.
I long for the days when life was simple. When all you knew were
your colors, the addition tables and 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 complexity 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 and 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.
Respectfully
submitted,
Author Unknown
