Pinky promise

I’m fortunate, as there’s some fun filled recollections inside this noggin (points to head).  There’s also some very sad memories I do not wish to recall too often.  On one end of life, I acknowledge there’s the euphoric times I can recall of greeting new members of the human race.  On the flip overwhelming side, there’s painful recall and solemn remembrance, when we’ve all lost their grip.  I can see how our physical life and death is like a circle.  Yet where we (the person we are inside) came from and goes to when we leave, well it’s a strange mystery, one that I feel is not meant to be fathomed.  I know for me I just don’t see the need or want to try to work it out, as there’s the business of life in the now to be mastered, enjoyed and to be getting on with.

boy jumping near grass at daytime
Photo by Luna Lovegood on

So, I will share a small part of a story about one lovely lively boy.  I recall him coming into the world in the next room, to become one of my family when I was a child.  I remember with fondness parts of our childhood.  There was a photo of him and his brother wearing similar stripped jumpers to the one in this image and he too loved to jump in puddles with equal vigour.  Oh how I love to reminisce the joyful occasions we played happy together as kids.  To enjoy and love each others company.  I’d say I was especially closer to the older of the two brothers, as the slightly older was most likely to get up to all sorts of mischief with me.  I think it was because we had a slightly less age difference than the younger one (oh wait, it was only about a year between the brothers come to think about it, but it makes a lot of difference when you’re little).  Well anyways, there was a very similar streak of cheeky hijinks and recklessness in our attitudes.  This perhaps also helped our connection, as we were the rebellious fearless ones that went on adventures.  We got into quite a few dangerous situations (that we never let on about) and enjoyed the freedom of just being.  Sometimes sneaking off to the park or wandering the area to suss it out.  There was a time we’d take a go cart down some very steep hills in Rothwell (Kettering, England).  I recall a large tarmac area off of the pavement in Tresham Street, where with no breaking involved we’d veer into it at a hellish speed and go round and round and round to lose the momentum.  I think it was the fire station grounds.  To think of it, if that’s right, I’m just really glad the engines never got deployed while we were playing, for that would have been one hell of a dramatic way to leave our mortal coil!

He grew up over time, made mistakes (as we all do) and his spirit and then his body got broken.  Saddest part of this story, is that the adventures came to an abrupt end for the wild happy boy inside and his life ended up leaving too.  All I have to hold onto are these happier memories to combat the sad ones.  I like to think about him as that bonkers, spontaneously happy kid/adult.  It’s good to remember the kind part of any person.  His kind and happy side became trapped inside the angry and frustrated broken body.  Those times I think about his later struggles and passing, well then the truth be told, it is then that it isn’t the adult in me that needs to hold onto the inner child’s hand, but the other way around.  Inside myself I am perhaps very childish and miss him as he was.  To keep the show going, I sometimes demand the kid I once was (still inside my head) compassionately hold hands with the saddened adult I sometimes become, so we can dance through this life.  Just like you, I face lots of pressure and random annoying things.  I find everything is better faced as if being a force to be reckoned with.  So then here I might stay hand in hand or more likely grasping a pinky promise within.  I love to hold a cheeky and hilariously crackpot pinky promise and to make fun of it all.  I think at least making fun of the horrendous crap on the inside helps keep us the champions we actually are.

two person holding pinkies
Photo by Valentin Antonucci on

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