In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Imperfection.”
I view what some think are imperfections as quirks. I’m super quirky. To say I’m in touch with my inner child would be an understatement. If you live in my hometown you may catch me lying on the ground staring up at the clouds with an expression of wonder on my face, running through the grass barefoot, jumping off the swings in my local park, eating with my fingers, leading a group of my friends’ kids in a game of hide and seek or a treasure hunt, dancing and singing down the aisles at the top of my lungs to a great song playing over the loudspeaker at the grocery store or pharmacy, reenacting scenes from my favorite goofy comedies (voices and all), and I never pass an animal in public without stopping to pet it.
I just told someone a few days ago I think our child selves are our real selves. Some may disagree, but it’s a truth to which I hold on strongly. My child self was the happiest version of me. And when I let her out as an adult, I’m happiest now.