There is this feeling that has overcome me in the past few weeks, a feeling that I am clinging to something that does not exist anymore. That I am clinging to a feeling, to a time of freedom and innocence. I’m clinging to games played in the backyard, to the smell of grass as I tumble down a hill, to play dates, blanket forts and stamping in muddy puddles. I am clinging to childhood.
As my first year of college comes to a close, I am beginning to realize that childhood feels further away to me than adulthood. The days of carefree walks to the park, hand in hand with my father or mother, the days of receiving piggy pack rides and magic kisses for my skinned needs are slipping away from me and I feel an overwhelming sense of loss.

With finals week approaching and the stress of looking for an apartment to live in next semester, I find the responsibilities of being an adult grabbing onto me and pulling me farther from the child that I once was. And it is crushing. To wake up on day and realize that it’s not just your family you miss, but a time in your life. And that is irretrievable and forever slipping farther out of reach, as adulthood obligations pull me further into the world of responsibilities and new horizons.
Not that those new horizons aren’t beautiful or exciting in their own way. As I gaze into a world that is laid out for me and expand my hand out toward that world, grazing it with my fingertips, I can’t help but be thrilled. But along with that comes taking that step. The leap headfirst into the adult world, where you grab a hold of those horizons and hope you make it out unscathed. But does that mean that I have to leave my childhood behind in the process?

Seeing my 5 year old sister, Gabby, again gives me a wonderful breath of fresh air, filling my lungs for the first time in years. Gabby’s delightful innocence and beautiful wonder takes me in and captivates me. She takes my hand and leads me into her world, where things are so exciting and the whole world her playground. She teaches me how to be a kid again. And I want so hard to bottle up that childhood feeling and take it back to college and the Adult World with me. But the feeling fades as pressures of the working world close in. And I find myself desperate for a way to recapture that beautiful childhood innocence without a time machine.
But then I think about the adults in my life who guided me through my childhood. My mother and father. And I realise that they, in there own way, both still contain their childhoods inside of them as well. Even though they carry the burdens of adulthood, sometimes heavily, on their shoulders, they still manage to let their child selves come out. I see it when my mom looks and the ocean, wonder and awe in her gaze as she squeaks with delight. I see it when my dad hears his favourite song on the radio and we drive around the block so we can hear the whole thing. They are just glimpses of their inner kid, but they are there none the less beautiful.
So when I think on my beautiful little sister and the wonderful adults in my life, a little spark of hope erupts in me. That perhaps you never truly leave your childhood behind, perhaps it lingers, in the little things, and keeps us from being dragged completely into adulthood's clutches. The child in all of us keeps us afloat when all hope seems lost. And although it is with great sadness that I take another step away from my time as a child, I know will never truly stop being a child at heart.