As a young child, I remember my mom trying to keep me clean. She never wanted me to have any kind of mess on me or for my clothes to be out of place. To minimize the risk of getting dirty, I rarely played outside until I started school. Much to my mom’s dismay, when I went to my friend’s house, I discovered the fun of dirt. I like having dirt on my hands and under my nails. I love the feeling of dirty bare feet.
I believe in dirt. It shows I am able to work hard, play hard, and enjoy life. When I get dirty outside, I’m enjoying the beautiful world around me. Dirt proves action – that you are really doing something. It is the memories of doing things with people, of getting dirty with them, that really last. My favorite memories of mom are when she lightened up to do things with me, like gardening or building snowmen.
I live my life with dirt and love it. Dirt, in the sense I think about it, not only means soil, but also a big mess; dirt is not supposed to be all clean and proper. I know I’m working hard or playing hard when I get dirty or make a mess, and when my muscles start to ache. I love to do things with people and get dirty because we laugh and enjoy more when we do.
Cleaning up afterward is almost as good as getting dirty in the first place. The well-earned hot shower (or bath) after a day of dirt is great. To let the hot water flow over aching muscles and the feeling of dirt floating away is like a snake shedding its old skin to become new again. I go to bed clean and ready to start again fresh the next day. My dirt is the proof of my life and I live by it. It proves good character, that I am working hard, and am truly living. Everyone needs a little dirt in their lives. Go – Get dirty.
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