Inner children
I’m reading a book Samantha lent me about one’s “inner child” which has gotten me thinking about childhood, about never getting to fully relax as a kid, because everything was an angst-ridden, responsibility-filled process of doom. I don’t remember many moments of sheer play; I remember lots of craving for comfort and safety when adults were absent, sisters were crazylike and I couldn’t play kickball to save my life. I don’t know how things like this shaped my psyche. I think people should be able to shape their present selves no matter what their pasts look like, or at least give the present as much credence as days gone by. But it did make me think about the reasons I covet time spent swinging on swingsets, wearing old sneakers and pigtails.
