Growing Down

I had a split-second urge to run around in a rainstorm...

But I didn't...

While this urge lasted for a very short moment, I was still compelled to think about why I had that urge. Am I in need of some fresh air and exercise? Probably. Could a piece of my childhood still be trying to push through the depths of my mind and body? I don't know. To think that a twenty-some year old like me is losing touch with my childhood is not entirely surprising to many people, but why shouldn't this be surprising? Everyone born into existence has a childhood, no matter how short. Some of us remember events more clearly than others, and most of us label childhood as the time from when we are born to around 16 or 18 years, when we begin to gain more responsibilities. At that point, we reminisce with our friends about our childhood memories, as if our childhood is over.

Sure, I'm certainly not a "kid" anymore. A few more years, and my brain will be fully developed. However, there's a part of me that does not want to let go of the (albeit few) emotions I felt as a kid. I was innocent, ignorant, and imaginative. In some ways, I'm still all three of those i-words. In other ways, I'm more intelligent and involved in the world around me. I understand the worth of non-material possessions, and I know how to love and care about people and ideas. I value everything I have learned since I was young, but I don't want to stop feeling young.

Does that make sense, or do I sound like I'm having a quarter-life crisis? I like to tell myself that, despite the inevitability of growing up (at least until cryogenics is perfected), I don't have to let go of all the elements from my adolescent years. If you know me, you may notice I watch more cartoons than any other kind of TV show. I speak in funny voices around my friends. I like to reread children's novels. I drink Juicy Juice and eat Pop-Tarts for breakfast. I'm not a "kid" anymore, but I certainly do a lot of "kid" things. Maybe I'm reminded of the simplicity of all those aspects of my life back then. I could relate to certain cartoons (and I don't mean I've ever lived in a pineapple under the sea). I could be imaginative while reading The Chronicles of Narnia or Harry Potter. Life did not make much sense, but I embraced my ignorance and allowed everything to play out.

Why do we hit a certain age and suddenly decide that enough is enough, that we need to grow up and enjoy the world around us less? Of course, our bodies may not be as nimble as they once were, but why should we stop doing other things that we considered "fun?" We may not have as much time on our hands if we have jobs and start families, but doesn't everyone have an opportunity once in a while to do something fun?  We're growing up too fast, and while we occasionally take the time to appreciate the memories, we conclude that we must mature. I'm mature for my age (in my humble opinion), but I can revert on a dime. I hope people know that acting goofy every once in a while and running around in the rain is not only fun, but they can bring out a part that lay dormant within us. They can allow us to return, even briefly, to a moment free of worldly stresses and a need to be serious. A wise doctor once said, "There's no point in being grown-up if you can't be childish sometimes."