in the time it took me to eat seven cherries she had barely finished one.
she was so concerned with not biting the pit.
it’s yucky. hard. you don’t eat that part.
so she sat there eating it like an apple;
nibbling around the core.
she gets to the core of me.
always turns the corners of my lips towards my eyes
and i love to watch her.
i don’t mean peering through her window at night.
none of that creepy stuff..
i mean watching her while she laughs,
smiling at the thought of her just being…
she’s simply perfect in all of her pit avoiding ways.
at three years old she laughs louder than any grown up ever will.
everyone always told me i had some growing up to do
but if growing up means losing that laugh i really, really hope she gets the same advice, too.
because that means she hasn’t yet lost her voice.
hasn’t had her creative juices stifled by bricks thick with realists.
she’s creative in all of her innocence.
and at three years old, i admire her for everything she does not know.
like i once was and like i long to be.
still, everyone has got some growing up to do.
but i don’t think growing up has to mean growing grumpy.
i want to belly laugh my way through all of my years,
take a few extra minutes to eat because i’m in no rush anyways.
i’m just going to play the day away…
and tomorrow, too.
so yeah, maybe i do have some growing up to do.
that’s why i spend my days around kids who can’t even fathom the thought of “21”
that’s so old, they say, you’re a grown up.
and i tell them,
only on paper.
i’m my heart, i’m three years old like you.