Children

White Chocolate Mocha with extra-special white chocolate sprinkles, Max Brenner's, Manly Beach

She gave me a shy smile before nodding, her eyes still on the open book I placed in front of her. I asked her if she likes fairy tales. I was a faraway voice, a faint echo by the time it reached her in the world of princesses, castles and happy endings, where she lives. She smiled as if she was unsure if I would share her secret pleasure yet glad that I asked, so that she could tell me what it was. I stood quietly next to her, both of us admiring, in reverent silence, the story of Cinderella.

Tonight, I heard a little boy read A Nightmare Before Christmas out loud; I followed his fingers as they made their way across the page into Halloweentown. With a devotion more complete than anything I’ve ever seen, his eyes kept faithfully on each word, he paid great tribute to Tim Burton. Me, I was just at the right place at the right time and had the privilege of being allowed to bear witness to such an important event.

I don’t walk around with wide-open eyes, taking in everything that is going on around me as if seeing it for the first time.
I don’t walk around half the time with my mouth open in wonder at the vastness of the world.
I don’t grab the nearest hand and hold on tight just because I’m almost bursting with excitement at seeing a picture of a dinosaur on the cover of a wee green book.
I don’t take slow, hesitant steps towards my favourite book laid out on the table, head bowed slightly in awe, half-afraid that I will be stopped and pulled away before I reach it.
I don’t raise my hand and repeatedly point at something, anything that catches my eye simply because words can’t contain and express how I feel.

Today, I wondered and wondered what it is like and wished, for a moment, that I knew.