Inside a Child’s Heart Lies the Key to Now

There’s nothing like the unbridled glee of a child to bring the warmth of a golden sun into a cold, partially cloudy Monday.

I was heading back to my office after a brisk walk in frigid temperatures, at least for California — the low will be 38 degrees tonight. Brrr. I know. I can see some of you knee deep in snow and ice shaking your heads — saying, those folks out West don’t know what cold is. My bad.

Frozen in my tracks by a distant lullaby, I stood on the periphery of a neighborhood park when I heard the singing voice of a small child reaching, climbing vocal stair-steps, aiming for the top rung of her lungs.

Stunning. Almost brought me to tears. I expected a group of children to follow, practicing for a stage play. Nope, one child expressing all the happiness her heart could hold, with no idea of her impact on a weary passerby.

She twirled through the tricolored autumn leaves with reckless abandon. Her long dark braided pigtails flying in the wind — bangs flapping like puppy dog ears.

I wanted to run through those leaves too. Maybe I will this weekend. I need to remember that kind of simple joy.

Whatever the tune, she had complete control of her gift as it graced my ears in the whir of a slow building wind. The sheer beauty of the fleeting moment?

Little Annie, oblivious she had captured my full attention and awe.

I thanked the universe for the flash reminder there’s light in every day — hope in every heart. I truly felt uplifted. Opened to receive her accidental Christmas present.

Happiness personified.

I wanted a dollop of that in my steaming hot vegan tortilla soup I had just bought from a favorite taqueria down the street. No, I couldn’t wait until taco Tuesday.

The urge to record her performance quickly faded when I thought of how crazy I would appear asking for her mother or guardian’s permission to take a recording of her child for an innocent blog post in a wealthy homogenous neighborhood.

“Hello miss, I couldn’t help but notice your child is quite talented, her joy is infectious. Would you mind if I took a video or picture to accompany a story I’d like to write?”

My imagination got the best of me. I visualized her as a Karen yelling, “someone call the police, I’m being harassed by a Black woman threatening to kidnap my child.” Oh, it could happen.

She’d probably think I was a perv looking to post her child on some awful website.

What’s even more awful? The fact these thoughts crossed my mind. Shame. We live in such different times than when I was growing up — nowadays; we flip innocence. Guilty until proven innocent is trending.

Skepticism is the new black. We’re all wearing it in different styles, but it’s the same shared cloak. Twisted from the inside out in fear from a steady toxic diet of horrific news stories from across the world taking place in classrooms, playgrounds, and amusement parks in broad daylight — I can’t say I would blame her. Well.

That’s what fear does.

So, I smiled — tucked my enthusiasm inside my heart space and, with a little more pep in my step, continued my brisk walk back to the office.

Thank you, Annie, for the inspiration you’ll never know you brought into my life on a cold Monday afternoon.

What was your spark today?