I have been spending a lot of time with Lilly lately which is a good thing. She has been teaching me how to be ten years old, again.
How to look at each day as an opportunity to have fun and not just a chance to get things done. How to dive into a swimming pool without worrying about my hair and eat ice cream without counting the calories. How to hold a live clam in the palm of my hand without getting too grossed out and how to laugh at things that are funny (like a good joke) as well as things that shouldn't be (like whoopie cushions and farts).
Sometimes, when I am with Lilly, I am reminded of myself at that age. Like when she asks to rearrange the furniture in her room. again. Or when she rails against the injustices of being the youngest child. Or when she talks and talks and talks when no one else is around.
Sometimes, too, when I think about Lilly, I think about the me that could be, full of life and laughter and imagination. The ten-year-old that still lives on inside of me, somewhere.
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