I held that roughly painted stone in my hand. And as I held it, a warm, familiar sensation ran up my fingers. I felt it flow through every inch of me, piping lukewarm emotions coupled with bitter sweet nostalgia.
And then, I sensed that little girl again. That little girl that took such great efforts to fashion the tiny piece of stone that she held so many million years ago. That little girl that I, one day used to be..
It brought back everything. Every feeling that made me for the tiny person I was. Every fragment that was left back with the erosion of life and age. I found her. And for that fraction of a second, I became whole. Whole with who I am, with who I used to be.
A grin, a glint in the eye, and a whole rush of nostalgia. I relived it again. Every little bit of it. And alongside, so did she. She came back to life. Back with her sack of innocence, with her catch of naive ness. With the sole objective to paint the stone in the most esthetic way possible. Why? I ask her today. She doesn’t know. Just for the heck of it, she says.
And then it dawned on me. When was the last time I did something for the heck of it? I am still thinking. Trying to rummage through my memory. For something. Desperately. To reassure myself that I have not lost her entirely. That she’s still an obscure part of me. The child that I so loved to be. The child that was dying to grow up. That finally did.
Its funny how time plays with your mind. How childhood seems so much more appealing when you grow up. And yet, not so much. If given the chance, I would not want to be a child again. Not really. But I would trade in anything for that sense and feel of childhood. The raw, brut atmosphere that was a part of me. That still is. But not in that quantity.
She’s still a part of me. Its indispensable. She made me for the person I am today. She’ll never leave me. I would never let that happen. I won’t deny it, she did go through a reasonable amount of change. But that was a given. Vital. Someone once said 'Il faut que la Jeunesse passe', It is crucial to leave behind our childhood. But what part of it? They didn’t care to explain that now did they?
But I can guess. Cause I experience it. I sense a child in me. Not wanting to get out in the open, but a child that needs suppression more than once in a while ;) . and that’s probably the reason that I don’t want to go back to being a child. That’s cause I never really stopped being one. The little girl was there all along. The memory and the nostalgia that the stone jogged just made her come alive in my conscious. To spot her. To recognize her. To remember to always be a host to her.
And thus, I still hold the stone in my hand. The wonderful sensation that dashed through my body as I held it has disappeared. Probably never to be back again. The stone has accomplished what it had to. It reunited me with something that was a significant part of me. That still is a significant part of me. And now I know, would always be a significant part of me.
