Childhood’s End

The innocent lessons we learn from horrible moments and how they define us and shape the path ahead.

Stop, she cries out behind me.

 Her voice is high, loud, and not caring about anything else but to be heard. The voice carries and lands forcefully on my ears. I pretend I don’t hear her and keep walking. I am hoping for her quick retreat. 

Wait for me, she yells again, this time, somehow louder. 

I can’t help it. I stop and wait. 

I don’t turn around, though. I already feel like I am doing more than I should. 

She reaches me, breathless, and casually slips a hand into mine. 

You almost left me behind, she notes, hurt in her voice. 

I shrug and continue forward. She squeezes my hand tightly. My own grasp is loose. If she wants to keep holding my hand, she will. I don’t care either way. 

In truth, the whole situation is undesirable. 

I had planned to walk this path alone. 

Still, I slow my pace, allowing her to keep up.

She talks but I barely hear her. 

I am distracted by many other things that demand my attention. 

Heavy matters.

The future. The past. 

Regrets. Fears. Wants. 

Desires.

Can’t she see that I am not listening? That I don’t have the time anymore? 

If she sees that, she doesn’t seem bothered. 

The walk is long. 

I worry that she’ll get tired. 

Does she even know where I’m going? 

Suddenly, my thoughts focus on her.

There is a skip in her step. Her presence is radiant in its joy. 

I wonder where she thinks we’re heading.

A broad smile spreads across her face, as if she’s happy just to be with me.

I try to tune into her words. Her excitement is contagious. Her grip on her my hand steady, unrelenting. 

She asks me a question. I glance down at her, not having heard. 

What? I ask.

My initial annoyance at her presence is gone.

She repeats the question, her eyes round and troubled. My mouth tightens in thought. I could answer in many ways.

Finally, my hand grips hers tightly in return. In a promise. 

Of course not, I answer. How could I leave you? The journey would be dull without you. 

Her grin is infectious, her playfulness wonderful, and her innocence cuts through. 

There are countless things I could say. Some steeped in regret, others in gratitude.

Instead, I urge her to continue her story.