Yesterday was National Children’s Day. I never knew that before, but thanks to Facebook, those lovely notifications that remind us what day it is comes in handy. I thought about the children of the world. I knew that I needed to write something, but being a writer, forcing myself to become inspired never lends itself the creativity that comes when I am in the middle of sleep and the words just flow effortlessly. I knew eventually I would have something to say about the children of this world. It just didn’t come on “National Children’s Day,” so I guess I am a day late and a child short.
I find it interesting that National Children’s Day actually hasn’t even been recognized as an official National Day in The United States like it has been in Moscow, though I am not surprised. America tends to be a bit behind on things that bear meaning and despite their persona of being a country that leads America tends to lag behind in things that are vital like health care and the environment. Countries such as England and France have surpassed America in countless ways on both spectrums in their economy. I guess we will get there one day!
National Children’s Day is celebrated all over the globe on various days in various countries. I find it beautiful that the entire world, in what appears to include every continent, has chosen at some point and time in the year to celebrate children. It is not easy being a child in this world and any adult who has not suppressed or fancified their childhood would be able to attest to this. I recall my childhood vividly and though the stressors of being an orphan take my childhood to another level of trauma I can put myself in the shoes of a child who grew up with both parents and still struggled. There are so many things that children encounter from bullying to the natural hormonal stage of being a teenager that make a child’s life complex and potentially more stressful than paying a bill. I believe that society has made it especially difficult for children to be children who are appreciated for their voices and individualities. I don’t think that we give children the capacity to exist in our world without extraneous pressures and barriers to conquer. I have yet to have children myself, but I can look through the eyes of a child in need as those were my eyes. When you come from the background of an orphan or anything that forces you to grow sooner than you should have it allows you the privilege of empathizing with a child in a way that adults tend to allow themselves to forget. Those who are robbed of their childhood never forget what they needed, how they never received it, and how they, how we, vow to extend that to every child’s existence that we get the honor to be apart of. Their is a sensitivity, a delicate manner in which we see children. We quickly asses the nature of a child’s emotions regardless of whether or not we have an intimate understanding of the child. This is the part about being an orphan that I have found beautiful. I never lost my sight. I held on to my innocence a little bit tighter and this innocence allows me to approach life in a creative manner that so many can not even comprehend. My emotions, my thoughts, my mannerisms are that of a woman who has grown, but my understanding for the needs of a child have never left me. It is my wish that adults would step back into their childhood and remember the feelings, remember the growth, remember feeling lost and misunderstood. If you are honest with yourself you will find that in so many ways that little girl, that little boy still exist in the beautifully complex person that you have become.
It is the existence of our inner child that causes us to be so complex. We become so torn between the need to meet the demands of the world as an adult, but to remain that joyful, innocent, creative, spontaneous child. I love the little girl in me. I allow her to come out and live vibrantly. She in many ways is my happy place and the more I allow her to live the more she becomes friends with the woman I am today. She appreciates her, loves her, respects her.
The world has created days to celebrate from Mother’s Day to Father’s Day to Grandparent’s Day. Why can’t we all celebrate the inner child in us? The child in you doesn’t go away because you become a Mother, a Father, or a Grandparent. If anything it unleashes just a little bit more as we are free to interact with the children in our lives. These moments are so beautiful and though I have not had the position of motherhood yet, I get to look on at the beautiful children in the world and smile at their laughs, their tears, their moments of curiosity and learning. When I get to view those moments I glow a mother’s glow that allows me to realize the little girl in me met the woman in me and because of that connection I get to see the beauty of a butterfly in a way that so many miss. I see the colors as they merge, I see the rain before it hits the ground, I see the sun before it meets darkness.
Let us not only remember the children of the universe, but to remember the child within us. Let there not be a day late, and a child short, for the child in us should never die.
Love the Children of the World,
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