Saturday, November 20, 2010
The Joy of Life
Where is that invisible line you cross when you look at a pile of leaves you've just raked and tell yourself things like; "It's too windy to burn these today and I don't feel like mowing them. I'll just leave them here, even though they are going to get old and gross and maybe attract snakes," instead of throwing yourself into them with careless abandon?
When does the joy of life leave you and fuddy-duddy practicality set in? And why did I ever let it happen? It must have crept up on me while I was busy trying to be an adult instead of enjoying my childhood for as long as it lasted, even if it had lasted until I was 80 or 90.
The next pile of leaves we rake up I am going to throw myself in them as well and have a real romp with my daughter. Who cares who might drive by and see.