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…mY fAding cHildhOod(reposted)

A September 16, 2008 that I read again. Every letter still strokes the right beat!

Its been almost 25 years now and life seems ever new each day. And today I thought about my fading childhood!

18 years ago, I was that kid that sat between mom and dad on the big couch at 9pm watching the network news. I was that child who watched out for shadows in movies (to deter

mine whether the movies were real or fake).

I was that kid that waited to watch Sesame Street and WWF on weekends.

15 years ago, I was that child that had little memories of life in Austria, and memories of my late dogs, Cindy and Michelle.

I was that child that lived by the window, hoping mom and dad would wake from their naps. I learned to write scripts in my head and perform them with stick-men and pens.

I was that child that waited longingly for my piano teacher to come. Music visited me. She came with the original fairy gown, glinting, sparkling, whispering sounds into my ears.

I loved my father. He would let me climb the trees at 5pm when the sun became shy.

I had picked up the Omnibus, I was being lured by the Unseen. The books had these figures, some wild, some gentle, some greedy, some brave, some just indifferent. I noticed David.

I had become friends with all kinds of animals. I loved the sea. I loved the smell of the soil when rain hits its surface.

I struggled in school. Mathematics became my adrenalin pump and English became lollypops.

Akin Macaulay became my envy. I began to know who I was, my talents started sprouting. I became the overall best student in elementary school. High school beamed in my face. High school beamed out.

College faded in, and faded out.

I am grown up now!

I am grown up now!

I see a lot of things differently. My heart beats faster when I see the ocean, that which drew my passion.

I now see the currency as exchange for my bills. I hardly watch movies: there are better, more interesting things to do. Things like regular expressions or session handling or looping through functions or exception handling.

I am becoming addicted to the thought of examination.

I am beginning to think about my daughter. What she’d look like, what she would become, what she would like. I want her to be like her mother. I want her to think like me, to like the things I liked. To think like I thought. I want her to come to earth, well welcomed. I want her mother-to-be to be happy.

I think of Nana.

As a child I only read the cartoon columns in the papers. I now jump at the STOCK MARKET pages first thing when I get the papers.

I think about LOVE and I think about it differently. I want to be loved, but most especially to give love. Some don’t understand that! They think I am after what lives between the legs.

I walk into the banks and they think I am eighteen. Some are wowed by what I do, some are unimpressed.

I now think about bills like I thought about the Trans Amusement Park.

I come back from work and the first thing I pick is my guitar, play one or two tunes and then: I am brought back to reality

I now think about Existence: He lives here. He watches. He watches. I am drawn to tears sometimes when He sits beside me. And He’s reading this blog.

I think about her; She’s everything to me. No not toys, No not oceans, not the sound of the piano, not the evening swings, no not the smell of the collision of soil and rain, nothing but eternity compares to my thoughts of her happiness.


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