My bedroom in my childhood home faced the West. That meant that the sun set right outside my window. God painted the sky in brilliant reds, purples, pinks, and oranges. Like snowflakes and finger prints, no two evening skies were the same. It was most glorious in the fall because the painting would backdrop the flaming autumn trees. Couple that with a crisp October breeze and the effect was absolutely breathtaking.
I wish I had a picture to show you.
I don’t have the best recall which kills me because I have so many great memories. When I do have a random mental snapshot, they often give me great insight about myself. I remember the games I used to play or the things I used to spend hours and hours doing. And while I don’t aspire to play with Barbie dolls, there are things that I wish I hadn’t let go of just because I grew up.
I get that not every kid who says he wants to be a firefighter when he grows up actually becomes a firefighter. But some of them do. When I look back at the things that make up my childhood, I see connections to several of the things I’ve done over the past decade. And I also see connections to what I always seem to want to do as an adult. My interests haven’t changed with time, they’ve just matured with age.
It seems the older I get, the more my childhood speaks to me. The more I think about autumn sunsets. The more I think about who I really am inside and how I want to live my life. I think that when we look back at the pure, innocent places of our childhood, the places of creativity, honesty, and discovery, we see some of our best moments. The older I get, the more I want to reconnect with those things that make me who I am today. The more I want to listen when my childhood speaks.