Recently I was with my very best friend and her daughter. We were watching her little angel skip, hop, and jump through a splash pad in the middle of a shopping center. It was in the middle of the morning, in the middle of the week. Her daughter didn't care that her clothes were getting wet. She didn't care that people might look at her funny. She didn't care that she might look strange moving in such contortions. No... all that the little girl cared about was the swift freedom that came from running wild and letting the wind blow through her hair. She was focused on skipping across the sprinklers trying to beat the timing as to not get sprayed too much. However, there was a secret delight heard in her squeals when she was a little too slow and the sprays caught up to her.
I asked my friend J, "Do you remember that? Do you remember running free like that not caring about anything in the world?" I don't think I have ever NOT CARED about anything and just let myself run free. How sad is that? Even as far back as I can remember, I can remember worrying. Little girls should not worry.
So I got up and splashed. I forced myself to be free from worry for just that moment.
The whole thing reminded me of this passage in this book I am reading "Stone Butch Blues" by Leslie Feinberg.
"God," she said, "by the time we're old enough to have sex, we're already too ashamed to be touched. Ain't that a crime?" (p73)