Back to Innocence

I was happening to watch a film while flipping channels on a lazy Sunday afternoon laying sprawled on my bed. I knew not of the name of the film or cared less to find what channel it was being aired on. It was a scene of a sunny day in a village where an middle aged son was back home after winning a piano in a rowdy bet at a drinking hole down at the town's square. It was a poor and simple peasant family of a loving mother, a sweet and beautiful sister and a couple of brother's (oh! well I didn't get the details actually.) The whole family was pleasantly shocked to find a piano arrive at their door step. Except for the mother none of the other sibling had ever seen a piano in their lives. But they knew for sure that it was something of awe. The mother was so delighted; you could almost feel her overwhelming emotions reach out of the screen like tentacles of powdery smoke grabbing at you. I was beginning to smile without my knowledge.

It was the same pure child like joy that fills any moment of innocent surprise. The same kind of joy that would light up the mischievous eyes of little kids I play with.

It makes you ache in your heart ... a tug somewhere deep in your being, an urge to go back to that innocence, giving up all the funny false pursuits in your world. Back to that time of timeless joy. Where every emotion is felt completely. Where you can cry like a child and laugh like a kid.

Your head goes up in a race of mad swirl and you can almost hear yourself praying aloud asking the being above to grab you back into His warm folds never to let you go again... never ... never ....