I Miss the Little Boy inside of Me

I Miss the little Boy inside of me.
Inside of me and every body on the planet is a inner child, this child is the playful part of our self, the part of us that doesn’t care about all of the responsibilities of adult life.
I’ve lived 53 years on this planet and 29 years of that has been spent in the role of a parent, now I’m not a shinning example of parenting, but I’m much better today then I was 29 years ago. I tended to worry too much and I tended to take life too seriously. And I spent most of my children’s life at work, trying to make ends meet. Instead of spending time with my beautiful children exploring the vast possibilities of life, I went to work, and in my spare time I went to work again, to make ends meet.
If I had to do It all over again I would spend more time with my beautiful children exploring there sense of wonder , I would allow my children to teach me what was important. Things like building a Fort, or playing Tag, or red Light Green Light. I’d watch clouds, and spend some time taking in the beauty of a simple flower, or a butter fly or a dragon fly. I’d try to catch a fly with my bare hands, or watch some ants. Or just sit and adore the magnificence of my 5 Beautiful children. Now I’m not saying we didn’t do fun things as they grew up, but If I could do it over again, I would worry less and play more, I’d spend more time loving them and Less time at work. I would spend more time being a friend and less time being a parent. I would enjoy the magnificence of childhood, and not take life so damned serious.

Little Boy I Miss You ~ By James Cavanaugh
"Little boy I miss you with your sudden smile and your ignorance of pain. You walked through life and devoured it with nothing but misty goals to keep you company. You wandered through quiet woods with friends and you where startled by a shuffling porcupine. Your heart beat mightily when you chased frogs and caught one to big for a single hand. There was no time for meaning. A marshmallow gave it on a sharpened stick. A jack knife in your pocket gave you comfort when your friends were gone. A flower hidden in the woods, behind an aging shriveled log. A dog who licked at your fingers and chewed at your jeans. A game of football that you didn't expect, a glass of cider, a crickets cry. When did you lose your eyes and ears. When did taste buds cease to tremble. Whence the sublime-ness, this mounting fear, this quarrel with life, demanding meaning. That mounting fear is leisure's bonus and it's the pain that forbids you to be a boy."
In Peace and Love Charles Lyon