There’s always that one thing that makes all the difference in how we feel about certain things in life. Well for me it’s normally music, art, or photography. But not anymore. I’m now stepping out of my beautifully crafted bubble, and being alive again.
I recently had the chance to accompany a young school that caters for well and able children, alongside children with special needs, to a trip to the Mamba Village in Karen, and later to the Bomas of Kenya. I was the specially assigned photographer for the day. This in case, I was in charge of creating a chronology of events through clicking a flashing gadget that later produced the images I will now share.
To say that hanging out with kids for a whole day made me feel years younger is an understatement; because I feel like an infant comfortably nestled in its mother’s cuddle. I’ve been infected with the wide-eyed-take-on-life syndrome, and I never want to get rid of it. Hell, I never want to be serious again. I want to forever be the type of adult that marvels at the sight of a plane flying in the sky; one that chases soap bubbles as they float through the air; and plays his heart out in the playground till sleep clutches me in the warmth of its soul.
Of course, its almost impossible to do all these with the responsibilities you and I both have at this point in our lives. But that doesn’t make it impossible to achieve. It doesn’t mean we can’t try to at least run around the playground in a fit of fun, or just sit in the garden and stare at the beetles and ants as they walk through the grassy forests. Maybe even blow some soap bubbles during office meetings and hope our bosses see the light of it all.
Since I’m self-employed, I know I can spare the time to do all these. Because that one day made me realize why teachers, those who run children’s homes, pediatricians, and everybody in a profession that brings them in contact with children: tends to have a constant energy about them.
You see teachers on sports days running around the field in a relay race and wonder to yourself, how is that lady even able to run four feet? How is that grey-haired, old man at the children’s shelter we went to today still able to walk without the help a cane? How is this pediatrician able to have fun with my daughter, MY NAUGHTY DAUGHTER?
Beautiful people, I’ll be damned if I don’t admit that I plan on being that grey-haired, old man walking without the help of a cane; and tuning in to Cartoon Network or Nickelodeon each and every waking moment.
Here’s to being a child again.