Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Relish Each Moment
When my nephew Kyle was four, he thought he’s a superhero. He thought he could fly and he had powers. It was refreshing to watch someone so innocent and untainted by the constraints of what we adults like to call “reality”.
We all started out like him, I suppose. All kids know they are powerful because they think magically. As children then, we felt invincible and sensed that the world revolved around us. We felt in command and why shouldn’t we? When we cried, felt hungry or dirtied ourselves, our beloved parents dropped everything to attend to us. We had no doubt we could control and manipulate the world.
Growing up, we were tamed by our elders. In place of our innate imagination and child-like wonder, we followed their dictates and allowed the world to come in and shape us. There was school, and all the other obligations foisted on us by our parents and society. Before we knew it, many of us had pretty much lost our childhood, our sense of awe at everything, our sense of power and our autonomy to be who we are.
With Kyle, I let him enjoy everything while he’s still young and full of dreams. I wish for Kyle to be a kid for as long as he can for there will be plenty of time to be an adult. Now that he’s 8, as I sit in quiet observation, I delight in watching him along with other kids enjoy the tender bubble of childhood, as they chat about games and their favorite cartoons, knowing fully well that in time, the bubble will burst and they will have bigger things not only to talk about, but to deal with; bigger dreams to weave and make happen. Then, I can only wish that they bring along with them all the good things they learn from home and school, from his Tita and Lola.
At certain points, Kyle would run to embrace me and Mommy—and cling to us, wanting every minute to be with us as he always does, and I ‘d feel all warm and fuzzy inside as I always do when that happens. We relish it as much as we can because we know that the way he hungers for our time, our company will not be the same forever. Time will come when we will be the one clinging to him, and love us dearly though he may, he will want to spread his wings and fly to his own dreams, have his own friends and live his own life.
But for now, allow me to spend quality time with him—he’s had his annual “Trick or treat” activities (something I’m quite fortunate to enjoy as well when I was young) and other kid activities. I believe such activities will help mold his character as he learns camaraderie while having fun. And it’s enough for me to see “that sense of wonder in his eyes”, and hearing him utter, “thank you, Atching” to know that he enjoyed and appreciated everything.