May has been a quiet month as I’ve been on several real world missions and most of the objectives have left me rather exhausted to maintain a very proper online presence. Nevertheless, I think I will return for June, even though my objectives have doubled. Turns out I want to achieve a lot and I can’t manage my time quite as effectively as I want. Anyway, I have chosen to write today, because it’s June 1st. I don’t know whether the world has synced with Bulgaria, but today is the day of the child. It’s a nice holiday and I used to call it the second Christmas, because I would always receive treats before getting into puberty and no longer classified as a child (much to my disappointment).
I still celebrate this holiday. I wish my sister a happy holiday and then I reflect on my childhood. What I loved most about my childhood were my summers, which I would spend away from the city and in a quiet coastal town with my grandparents. I’m not sure how many of you have had the privilege to wander in empty streets, sit on creaky, weathered benches and play in peace. The only thing that could disturb the silence was the clack-clack sounds of hooves in the morning and afternoon when shepherds and goat herders would lead their animals to and back from the fields. I remember I would play with my dearest friend Victoria and devise intricate choose-your-own-adventure games, which we would play verbally and on the fly. Spontaneous imagination.
One summer, I was tasked to keep a daily journal as a homework assignment for English. Naturally, I got bored writing the same thing over and over again (I’m a fan of routine really and summer being summer what could I write about other than playing and watching TV), so I started telling stories. How I rode on an underground train system made by the kids in the town and how we ruled from treetop fortresses. Items that granted us powers and water balloon fights from tree trunk canons.
These times feel so far removed now, I consider them another lifetime. As each year passes, I worry I might be losing that child and then I realize I still am a big kid. I still tell stories and I still discuss outrageous things with my sister like her turning into Godzilla (which she is not against), fist fighting monsters under the bed and being so frightening (when goofing out) that zombies would run from me during a zombie apocalypse. So I consider my inner child safe and sound.
Tonight I will head out celebrate this day by singing awfully in a karaoke. How will you thank your inner child for sticking with you for years after you have grown up?