I remember that as a child I made a secret vow to myself — even before I knew what a vow was. I vowed I would never forget what it was like to look out of a child's eyes, to see how things seemed to me from that point of view. I have kept it the best I can, knowing how we change as we grow older, how so many things we care about pass on or fade into the background. I still remember the vow, and I think I still remember at least some of how it seems through the eyes of a child. Do you recall it at all? How some little thing seemed like the end of the world or Heaven's greatest gift? I have, however, something else that I had not counted on back then, which is the gift of perspective.
It seems funny to us, we grown-ups, how we wanted so bad to have this or that, or thought that some toy would be the End of All Want for the Rest of Our Life. Priorities change. I remember when Gummi Bears first became popular. I wished I had enough money to buy twenty bags of the stuff. But I'm glad that never happened. The world has some certain wisdom many may miss. If I had had all twenty bags of 'Bears, I would no doubt have gotten sick of them — the twentieth bag eaten from that pile would surely not have tasted anywhere near as good as the bags of Gummi I did get, spaced out in time. In the years when candy was still a regular buy, the Gummi Bears stayed a special treat.
I will never forget my vow, I don't think. I will always strive to imagine how a child may look at things. But I am not a child, any longer.
