When Time Didn't Matter

Do you ever think about how different time felt when we were children?

Back then, a whole afternoon could disappear and we didn’t even notice.

There was a little pond in the side yard that would freeze over in the winter. It wasn’t very big, but that didn’t matter.

To a child with an imagination, it was an ice-skating rink.

There were tricks to practice, dreams of becoming a popular ice skater, and those wonderful moments when nothing else seemed to exist.

Just the ice.

The cold air.

The sound of the skates.

And that feeling of being completely free.

Our imaginations filled in the rest.

Rocks.

Sticks.

Pieces of this and that.

A piece of paper could become a poem. A pencil could turn into an artist’s tool. Wood burning, sketching, creating…

We didn’t need much.

We just needed something that caught our attention and a little time to get lost in it.

And then we grew up.

Somewhere along the way, those things started disappearing.

Not necessarily because we stopped enjoying them.

Life just got louder.

And without even realizing it, we got very good at putting ourselves last.

But maybe something happens as we get older.

Maybe we start realizing that some of those things we loved weren’t little at all.

They were pieces of us.

And maybe we don’t have to go back and do exactly what we did as children.

Maybe we just need to find new things that give us that same feeling.

Lately, that might mean baking something from scratch.

Putting on music and singing.

Dancing around the house when no one is watching.

Trying something new.

Doing something simply because it feels good.

And isn’t it interesting how quickly the mind wants to turn even those things into something productive?

What am I going to do with this?

Am I good at it?

Should I be doing something else?

But what if there doesn’t have to be a reason?

What if we can just enjoy it?

Because maybe that’s what we’re really trying to find again.

Not childhood itself.

Not the past.

Just that feeling of being completely absorbed in the moment.

Remember how time didn’t seem to matter?

We didn’t spend an afternoon thinking about everything we needed to accomplish tomorrow.

We were too busy skating, drawing, singing, or simply imagining what our little world could become.

There was always time.

Funny, isn’t it? That now we seem to have so little of it.

There’s always something waiting.

Something that didn’t finish yesterday.

Something that needs to happen tomorrow.

And sometimes it feels almost impossible to just be where we are.

But learning that being present doesn’t have to mean sitting perfectly still with a peaceful mind.

Sometimes being present looks like flour on the counter.

Music playing in the kitchen.

Singing a little too loud.

A few minutes of dancing.

And suddenly…

We aren’t thinking about yesterday.

We aren’t worrying about tomorrow.

We’re just there.

Maybe that’s one of the gifts our inner child still has waiting for us.

A reminder that we don’t always have to hurry.

Sometimes we can simply do something that makes us happy.

And for a little while, let the clock disappear.

Because maybe we haven’t lost that carefree part of ourselves after all.

Maybe that child is still there.

Maybe that child just needs us to make a little room for them.