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The Little Girl
YearnToWander
21 Jun 2004
So, ----. Was Dickenson dead on about madness in her poetry? I guess
that may have to do with where one draws the line on madness and
sanity.
I was at my sister's softball game earlier tonight and there was a
little girl of about 2 or 3 years of age who must have been another
player's little sister. I guess where I started to notice everyone's
insanity was when one of the player's on Jill's team kept hitting these
soaring foul balls that would fly over the fence. One of them flew in
between two women (one, her mother, holding the little girl). It missed
the women and more thankfully the toddler's face by mere inches. There
were gasps and everyone quieted down. The little girl wasn't at all
fazed by the event.
She was let down from her mother's arms and just wandered around like
kids are wont to do. She got closer to the fence and her mom raced up
and grabbed her, saying, "Don't go too close, you could get hurt and
get in big trouble." (Trouble for approaching, not for being hurt...
yes, captain obvious here.) So I just sat there and thought about what
the girl must think of the situation. I'm not saying it wasn't a good
move to keep her out of harm's way, but to her it is just natural
curiousity [sic].
She plays in the dirt. I still think.
Would it really be so correct to say that she "didn't know better"? I
disagree. She didn't know anything, so there could not have been
anything that she knew that would be trumped by this better advice. The
whole world must be play. It's ingenious. Big people work. Children
play. Work is a nasty word when you are a kid. It's where your parents
go when they aren't with you, and thats no fun - to have your best
friend somewhere else. What a nasty word. It mustn't get better either
since not many people come home as excited about their day as a kid
with some really strange looking bug. We smoosh bugs. They marvel. I
used to.
She tries to put on a batting helmet. I see the trees.
Just yesterday they were bare and covered with snow. Yesterday was
really months earlier. Time is one thing we'll never have time for
again, no matter what we do. It's sort of sickening. When I was in
kindergarten a week seemed a lifetime away. Now the rest of my life is
only a week away. How nice.
Sometimes I wonder if I really should say goodbye to my inner child,
against the advice of so many motivational speakers and over-quoted
minds of the past. When I think of all the inner-children I meet or
read about everyday they all seem to be brats. They take from others
and poke fun. Horrible, I say. Why would I ever give myself the chance
to rot like that. It's neglect. Maybe I'll just be an outer-child. Not
the bratty kind of child, but more like the inquisitive and boldly
innocent girl at the ballgame. She was sweet.
She offered me some of her cheese curls. I make a new friend.
She barely knows how to talk and she is already far beyond the levels
of communication some grown-ups have. She's my idol. I want to be just
like her when I grow up.
***
And so, ----, the big question:
What would you do if you woke up one day and you were the only person
left?
Love,
---
An e-mail I sent to her.
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