Won't You Join Me?

I carry a heavy weight.

I shoulder the stress and pressure of school. I take on the burden of work and finances. I bear the expectations of parents, teachers, and church leaders. I struggle in the social calls of friends and school events; and finally, I collapse at the expectancy of another sleepless night.

I used to dream. I dreamt of endless time and space, where limits did not exist. Now when I dream, I dream of nothing. My body and mind fall into a coma of fatigue. That's what comes with growing up though, isn't it? It is part of becoming responsible, part of becoming an adult.

If this statement is correct, I have come to a conclusion: I do not want to grow up. Take me to Neverland. Eighteen years has not been enough time; I have grown up too fast. I have taken the moment I have and filled it with tasks I deem beneficial, events I feel important.

My days and weeks are composed in calendar-specific, planner-organized complexity. For what reason? To seem mature, to feel fulfilled?

I work with the children aged one-and-a-half to three years old at church. It is my one time a week to play. I pull out the trains and tot "choo choo" for hours. I sing songs, I dress up dolls, I build extravagant kingdoms of red, yellow, green and blue Duplo blocks.

I miss the simplicity of playing dress-up and house, of making mud pies and taking naps. There was a time when my backyard was home to a major plane crash, residence to a society of native Indians, a place where goblins and fairies hid behind every towering tree and every obscure bush.

Now it is only a lawn; dominion to nothing but a few trivial trees and patches of barkdust. Don't you remember?

Tell me when; when was the switch made?

I was once a girl, just a little girl. I ran through the neighborhood wearing nothing but a swimming suit, singing "Mr. Sun" at the top of my lungs, catching bees from the honeysuckle, searching through the weeds to find the clover with four leaves.

I want to go back, but I can't. If only turning around and walking through the motions could return to me those years of unnecessary stress, f pointless heartache, of concern for matters that would make no difference in my future.

Today, I'll let go of growing up. I've realized I will spend most of my life there. For now, I think I'll lay back and watch the clouds take shape.

Won't you join me?