On childhood, unclaimed time, and creating space for life to happen
In giving ourselves the freedom to choose,
we stopped wanting childhood
to be preparation
for something still to come.
Or a rehearsal
for a life that would begin later.
Because life as a child
is already life.
We wanted her to encounter it.
Directly.
With hands in the tide
instead of a description of it.
To be exposed to enough of life
to discover what spoke to her.
To have the freedom to respond
to who she is becoming,
without a predetermined path
already laid out before her.
With hands in the tide
And for any of that,
there had to be room.
We wanted time left unclaimed
and space for life to happen in it.
Time enough to be bored.
To lie down deep
in an empty hour,
where interest could find us.
Time to wander towards something
simply because it caught our attention.
To discover.
To experience.
To change direction.
We wanted greater ownership
of the shape of our days.
The freedom to decide
which structures deserved a place
within our lives.
Because somewhere beneath this vision
was an awareness
of the finite nature of time.
That these days
were not simply carrying us
towards a life still to come.
They were life.
And we wanted to live them—
each and every day,
ours.