You can play.
Really. You're allowed to have time where you aren't producing a product, time where the things you do aren't casting a shadow over who you are (they are different, you know). You're allowed to fight for space for your heart to grow, space so it doesn't wither under the weight of expectation. You're allowed to defend your time, a treasure more precious than gold which is too often spent on things that would not appreciate its worth.
You're allowed to run. To laugh. To forget what it is to think like an adult. To play again.
The park was full of Russian orthodox women in head coverings and laughing children. The winter sun shone sideways on Eva's hair, making it sparkle like her laughing eyes. We played tag in the fading light, giggling and dodging children and puzzled parents. My heart bubbled and splashed again as I played, my hair coming undone from it's proper bun and tangling in straggles on my jacket.
Then I looked over and saw a Dad start to play tag with his daughter. Then a Dad chasing his 3-year-old son around, laughing freely. Then two brothers giggle as they watched us run. A little girl looked up at me.
"Can I play too?"
And I realized that to play is to be truly free.
Chase your childhood until you catch it every time.
No comments:
Post a Comment