Do you remember yourself when you were about six years old? Do you remember how you thought, what you loved, what you were most afraid of? As we move along in life, there’s a tendency to push onwards and upwards, growing and changing and forgetting who we really used to be. All it takes is some weird months and we become entirely different people. We find new passions, new fears, and leave our old selves behind. For the most part, this is good and wholly involuntary. We change little by little until one day we look in the mirror and think, “Wait, is that me now? Is this who I am?” But change isn’t something that just happens to us. Every day we make a conscious decision to be one type of ourselves and not another. So which version of ourselves do we choose?

My six-year-old self was an introspective young lass. One time in first grade I had a stomachache, and I spent a good 15 minutes deciding if using the word tummy when I told my teacher that I felt bad was too immature. Six-year-old Sydney was also very imaginative, and obsessed with fantasy. Harry Potter, Redwall, Warrior Cats, Lord of the Rings, she read them all. Everything she read, she dreamed of becoming. She wanted to be not Harry Potter or Hermione, she wanted to be herself, as a Hogwarts student, just trying to get a magical education and being very annoyed by the shenanigans of the Gryffindors. Six-year-old Sydney longed to befriend the woodland creatures of Redwall Abbey and one day partake in one of their summer solstice or fall equinox feasts. She wanted to make friends with stray cats who were part of different warrior clans, and she wanted the elves to discover her hidden talents and whisk her away to Rivendell. Six-year-old Sydney wanted so many fantastic things, and she had such visions for the future. Sometimes I wonder what six-year-old Sydney would think of herself now?

I can do many things now that my six-year-old self dreamed of doing. I’m at a college where sometimes, just for a moment, I can imagine that it’s actually Hogwarts. Stone buildings, dormitories, professors, and a chemistry class that looks a lot like Potions. There are chilly mornings where the blue of the sky hugs the bright red leaves and as I look around me, my inner six-year-old leaps for joy. When I went to the Balkans last May, I encountered many a monastery which could have been Redwall if it were run by squirrels and mice. Maybe I haven’t experienced a summer solstice feast, but Gillette Thanksgiving is pretty close with an abundance of food, long tables crammed with people, and silly antics up and down the table.

Even though we grow and change, leaving childish things behind in favor of maturity and responsibility, I think it’s really important to remember your six-year-old self. They’re inside somewhere, waiting for you to find joy in that really cool playground or that GI Joe with 27 accessories. Yes, maturing is good, I’m sure. But I’m so not sold on trampling out all sense of wonder and imagination. If anything, we should be more imaginative. When you grow up, don’t let the world quash your inner child. Choose to become a person your younger self would be proud of.