Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Saying Hello to Innocence

Wow, it seems like the end of summer, a rather damp few months but fizzing with the most amazing experiences, moments like those you experienced as a child. You know, the ones you thought would go on forever.

In recent years I've revisited summers like those childhood and teenage ones; footloose free holidays, colorful festivals, dancing outdoors, raves, songwriting, guitar playing, bike riding, Daisy Duke & Bikini top wearing, beach days and living on way less money...it has been a blast and I've loved every single fun packed nano second. It's been unforgettable.

Yesterday, while an alt, metal, ska band rocked the community stage I saw a T shirt I've seen a good deal before but was drawn to reprocess: It has a silhouette of Tinkerbell and the tag line; 'Don't Grow Up, It's a Trap'. At one time I would have disagreed but I'm of the contrary opinion now. Ten years ago I got to press 'freeze' and 'rewind'. I had the privilege of starting life over & this time I got the chance to do it right. 'Growing Up' is for cynics, for the 'I thought that at your age' brigade....This time I won't bother to make the switch. It is indeed a trap; a trap that's hard to escape. If growing up means leaving love and innocence behind, saying goodbye to trusting and accepting life at face value, claiming that harsh realities put an end to dreams, count me out: I want none of it. Maturity and the caring, accepting values of childhood can coexist. I'll take that any day over conservative hatred and intolerance.

Next month I cease to be a 'Miss'. I put on a beautiful white dress, signifying my innocence, and marry the man to whom I give my heart, Mart Williams. There are some out there who say this is all wrong, that it is un-natural', an abomination against nature and that such a marriage is hateful . What gives you the right to say that?  Would you have said the same when you were a child? Somehow I doubt it. Growing up you left so much behind....mostly the good stuff.

I'm heading into work now, mud on my converse and the cleanest, workiest clothes I can find (leggings and a striped Bardot neck top). It's the easiest option without rushing home to get changed. I still have a festival cape in my shoulder bag. It's safe there just like my memories of a summer well spent. Here's raising a mug of filter coffee to the future, to marriage, to innocence and not growing up. 

Just bring it on!

Huggs, Jane xx

1 comment:

  1. Jammed packed with so many good things and lively lines - a prose poem. I'm a sucker for the end of summer. Your essay brings back the melancholic-manic feeling of that season. Bravo.