Pieces of Moonbeams

CXII: little kids, papers, and flowerpots

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥.

one that is left on childhood. one mere part which i couldn't remove even if i separate parallel selves living on myself. one that doesn't deemed to let go, despite how strong i repel. one that merely exist for happiness. that one fragment that doesn't got swept away by the wind, no matter how tough i
blow my lungs into it.

isn't it wonderful that we tend to be the happiest in our early stages of life?

the cells before the tissues. the bone marrow before the bone. the flesh before the skeleton.

before the metamorphosis of a butterfly. before we shed layers of our skin to become something new. before we evolve to escape out of the blue.

the beauty that life shares with us being a child. the sentiments we carry on through adulthood. a memory that we always dig and look back because we always know that it will keep us away from sadness.

the happy memories that exist while we are a kid. only that piece of our lifetime we experience which we feel the contentment & peace with.

the time where the days pass in a brink of second. times where the nights are overflowed with serene moments excited to wake up for tommorow mornings just to have fun.

the pureness of our soul when we were a kid. no worries & anger that we need to suppress & hid. no chance slipped away that we have only seconds to plead.

a day not occupied with melancholy. just pure bliss lighting up our day.
just souls having fun without minding anyone—anything we can do filled with pleasure under the sun.

afternoon parlor games. our rear back getting sweat its skin after playing non-stop while the sun is still shining while we play.

playing tags running on grassy fields. tumbling with friends in rough roads--scratching the surface of our palms, wishing it was a soft cushion when we fall upside down.

walking the vacant streets with our 7 year-old friends chitchatting light & little things like how they got their new toys, boasting they'd defeated the level 100 boss on a video game, how their mom braids their hair on the afternoon before playtime, how the flowers and butterflies and prairies they stumbled upon felt beautiful to look for the first time.

running on the hallways. watching Disney & Cartoon network shows during early mornings. eating our favorite foods before the dawning of evening.

glancing on the wooden window pane; filled with amazement of why are the stars shining at night and not at days—where the skies are brimming with light.

that 1-minute fascination on the road, of why the moon was following us when we take a step forward; and still travel behind our back when we take a step backwards.

i still love to eat my favorite aromatic burger partnered with cold coca-cola on bed while i'm watching my favorite movie. i still love to put my fluffy teddy bears & toys beside me before i fall into sleep.

i still love to slip my spine on the waterslide thinking i will fall into a place i promised to go with by myself. i still love to face each thing that come into my life without thinking it on a deeper sense. just the softness of everything to see through.

i still keep on collecting memories of people that stick still around inside my head. i still kept intact the little things my friends had given back from the past.

i wish we could take the world with us, full of our raw emotions embellishing our human existence. i wish we could be our younger selves again—not concerned with our hunch back bearing the problems we've got to face on our spine.

say, love: isn't time cruel for us humans?
you didn't know how long you have been cascading sands on your palms until it has walked past behind you. that the time you have spent in life will mean nothing unless you enjoy the falling of each miniscule seconds.

never let the child on you burn on adulthood. never let the dimness of your light be the way why you can't walk through the darkness.

memories maybe forgotten & may drift from past to present—but still, they live in a special home inside your heart.

a home in our life that we will never leave. a home only left inside on you. a soft & tender room you can always enter when life diminishes every little possibility you contain in jars full of happiness.

in vibrant stationaries & bland paper pages we still write with our messy handwritings.

in sunless days of scattered landfills still brimmed with beautiful sceneries.

in flowerpots filled with flowers we planted when we were once a little kid.

--
von frederick, "little kids, papers, and flowerpots" 💐📄
July 30, 2023