Simple Pleasures

Perhaps I was too inspired by Peter Pan in my youth. 

 

Possibly it was the vast quantity of Science-fiction and Fantasy that I read. 

 

Or maybe it is just a natural outcome of being the youngest of three fairly rough and tumble boys that led me to a personality that walks a fine line between reality and fantasy.  And while the connection may not be immediately apparent, believe me, when you are the youngest, and being regularly pummeled, fantasies are quite common, either from induced brain damage, or simply frustration.

 

 

Be that as it may, I have often wondered how children who revel in the simple joys and wonders that surround them somehow all seem to grow up and “unlearn” pleasure.

 

Watch any baby;

they giggle wondrously at the touch of a cat’s tail, or dog’s ear; smile when they feel a puff of air cross their cheek; gaze rapturously at the colors of light fracturing through window panes. 

 

Watch a child at play;

rolling in the grass just to feel the individual blades against their skin and to draw in the vibrant scent; chasing soap bubbles in the soft air currents; stomping in mud puddles. 

 

Watch early teens as they run;

skipping; jumping; and race everywhere. 

 

Or watch late teen couples;

constantly in contact, hands, hips, shoulders, heads; lost in the thrill of another’s presence; engrossed in the warmth and nearness of each other.  Hearts racing, breath shallow, just from being close.

 

No baby needs to be taught that the tactile is soothing. 

 

No child needs to be taught how to have fun. 

 

No teen needs to be taught that besting a challenge carries untold joy. 

 

Nor any late teen that the greatest treasure in life, is another human being to share with.   

 

 

And yet, somewhere along the line, most adults have un-learned these simple, joyful, wonders.  Tossing them aside for what?  Money?, Power?, Turmoil?, Hectic days?, Lonely nights?

 

How many 50 year old women skip in the springtime?  Weave friendship bracelets out of flowers? Or have pajama parties?  How many 50 year old men throw water balloons?  Strap cards to their bike spokes?  Or “Double-Dutch Dare” their friends in fun?   

 

How many 60 year olds worm down into the warm beach sand and just listen to the rumble of the waves on the shore?  Or “fly” a bike down a long and winding hill to feel the wind in their hair and the freedom in their soul?

 

How many 40 year olds can still say that the very best time of each and every day is the time they get to hold their partners hand?  Nothing more, just hold hands?

 

I know, most of you are thinking “Oh, grow up, things just aren’t that way, that’s childish”. 

 

But is it? 

 

Do you remember each day of school, or each school dance better?

 

Do you remember falling off your bike, or riding your bike better?

 

Do you remember kissing your teddy, or kissing your first love better?

 

 

Well, if giving up those simple pleasures is what it means to grow up, than like Peter before me; “I’ll never grow up, ‘Cause growing up is awfuller, than all the awful things that ever were, I’ll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up, no sir”.

 

Life is too full of joy to just exist; Joy that is free to each and every one.

 

I will remember as many of my childhood activities; revel in the sense of adventure; relive the sense of challenge; re-feel the joys that came along. 

 

I will continue to leave work early; to walk the edge of the ocean, throw driftwood back, and watch the sunset; to come in late after watching the moon set; or to skip work completely to add another unusual experience to my collection of treasures.

 

I will continue to grow a beard at Christmas time each year, cause fat old guys with gray beards should; and to shave it off every January just to feel the air currents in a still room play across my cheeks.

 

I will continue to drive a silly old car that makes people smile; and decorate it for the holidays, and the summer surf days, simply because I have the imagination to do so, and because doing so spreads smiles and joy to those around me.

 

 

When the day comes that I can no longer do these things.

 

When I settle into the day-to-day existence of the plodding souls.

 

When I can no longer smile at my memories, be stirred by adventures, awed by the world around me, or remember the pleasures of days past;

Then mourn for me,

For I will already be gone.

© 2014 Marty K Vandermolen, All Rights Reserved