To Whom It May Concern:
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult in order
to accept the responsibilities of a 6 year old.
The tax base is lower. I want to be six again.
I want to go to
McDonald's and think it's the best place in the world to eat. I want
to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make waves with rocks. I
want to think M&Ms are better than money 'cause you can eat them. I
want to play kickball during recess and stay up on Christmas Eve
waiting to hear Santa and Rudolph on the roof.
I long for the days when life was simple. When all you knew were
your colors, the addition tables and simple nursery rhymes,
but it didn't bother you because you didn't know what you didn't
know, and you didn't care.
I want to go to school and have snack time, recess, gym, and field
trips. I want to be happy because I don't know what should make me
upset. I want to think the world is fair, and everyone in it is
honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible.
Sometime, while I was maturing, I learned too much. I learned of
nuclear weapons, prejudice, starving and abused kids, lies,
unhappy marriages, illness, pain and mortality. I want to be six
again. I want to think that everyone, including myself, will live
forever because I don't know the concept of death.
I want to be oblivious to the complexity of life, and be overly
excited by the little things again. I want television to be something
I watch for fun, not something I use for escape from the things I
should be doing. I want to live knowing the little things I find
exciting will always make me as happy as when I first learned
them.....I want to be six again.
I remember not seeing the world as a whole, but rather being aware of
only the things that directly concerned me. I want to be naive enough
to think that if I'm happy, so is everyone else. I want to walk down
the beach and think only of the sand beneath my feet, and the
possibility of finding that blue piece of sea glass I'm looking for.
I want to spend my afternoons climbing trees and riding my
bike, letting the grownups worry about time, the dentist, and how to
find the money to fix the old car. I want to wonder what I'll do when
I grow up, and what I'll be, who I'll be, and not worry about what
I'll do if this doesn't work out. I want that time back.
I want to use it now as an escape, so that when my computer crashes,
or I have a mountain of paperwork, or two depressed friends, or a
fight with my significant other, or bittersweet memories of times gone
by, or second thoughts about so many things, I can travel back, and
build a snowman, without thinking about anything except whether the
snow sticks together, and what I can possibly use for the snowman's
I want to be six again.