I am spinning in circles. The bright green grass, the clear blue sky, the fluffy white clouds, my orange dress, they are all blending into a kaleidoscope of colors. The colors blur changing shapes into streaks, and I hear childish giggles pouring out of me. I fall, and slowly, the world returns to normal. My giggles are still filling the blue sky, and green grass tickles my skin. My six-year-old self jumps up to begin spinning again, but my sixteen-year-old self slowly retreats from the memory of simple summer days taking with it the dusty knowledge I held in my 6-year-old heart. I believe that life is about a giggle and a fresh-picked flower.
As a child, I showered my beloved adults with simple gifts. I drew them crayon-pictures and dropped bouquets of dandelions in their laps. My love was expressed in a simple and genuine way. I loved laughter, and I loved to see other people smile. I was never an optimistic child, but I was the sunshine of my family. My whole world was tinted with laughter. I knew who I was, what I wanted, and what my perfect future would look like. I lived a simple life. A life that was made up of giggles and dandelions. I can still see that wisdom in the hearts of the children around me. My four-year old friend, Abby, always has a laugh waiting to erupt. She reminds me to seek joy in the everyday. My six-year old friend, Blythe, loves to give me crayon-pictures. She reminds me that love is about touching the heart not impressing someone.
At sixteen, I let the wisdom of fresh-picked flowers, giggles, and dress-up dreams slide beneath the grimy mud of gossip, dating, and who others think I should be. When I watch Abby spin around in circles just to laugh, or when the four-year old I teach gives me a fresh-picked flower, I see that life is about a just-picked daisy, a pair of glasses with laughter-lenses, and a Cinderella dress. Life is simple.
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