I sort of ran away to Grandma and Grandpa S's house today. I felt just like a little kid, hopping on my bike and pedaling like mad to the distant other end of town. I followed a path much of the ride, a pretty cool path because along the way one can see quail, roadrunners (which aren't as big as cartoons led me to believe), and lizards, among other creatures.
Even better than the ride was the visit. Grandparents the best ever. Grandma and Grandpa told me stories of their recent adventures that I probably shouldn't repeat to their children. They even showed me their battle wounds. Grandma asked if I'd written any poetry lately, which she always does, even though it's been a while since I've had anything to show her. When I was younger, I always had little stories or poems to share, but somewhere along the way, I grew up, I grew self conscious, and I stopped sharing. What is it about growing older than makes one forget what's it like to feel unstoppable and brilliant? My writing may have improved since I was kid, but that little kid I was sure had more moxie than I do now.
"Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up."
~ Pablo Picasso