A Little Innocence, A Little Realism

This morning, as I was walking down the street, a small boy walked out his front door and stood in the middle of the sidewalk, looking up at the sky. There was a fairly thick snow falling down (although none of it seemed to be really sticking), thick flakes falling straight down to the ground. This kid had on a brown, wool hat and was obviously on his way to school. It looked like he had on mittens (the kind that attach to your coat), but I could be wrong on this.

He seemed to be waiting for a parent or another sibling, before he started his walk to school. As he was waiting, his head was tilted almost all the way back, his mouth slightly open. This kid was staring up at the sky as though, if he looked hard enough, he’d be able to see where all the snow was coming from.

Watching him, this wave of nostalgia hit me. I wanted to be young again, a kid again. Looking at the boy, he seemed full of wonder and awe. The way he stared at the snow, it seemed like he was encountering some kind of mystery for the first time. He made me think of childhood, and newness, of the innocence of kids.

As I walked by, the stench was overpowering. This kid reeked, REEKED of cologne. He looked like a fifth grader.

I continued walking, a little colder and a little depressed.