remember the things I used to believe in as a kid

was in a tree on the shore of a very large lake, on a branch that hung way out over open water. I wanted to freeze time that day. I knew that summer was almost over, that fall would melt into winter. I knew that the heat of youthful passion would fade to a memory, that soon enough my first love would be just a memory—perhaps a silly one, at that. I believed that if I could stop time, I would always own the magic of that day. I would always be loved.

Now I know that the moment was never mine, nor have any of life’s moments been mine to manipulate. Time unfolds as it will. It surprises and shocks and crushes and astonishes. Moments delight and overwhelm, and they cannot be stopped or frozen.

Nevertheless, I had it half right—I have always been loved. It just took me decades to realize that it wasn’t about the moment. It was about ME.

which is a fun time.

It’s a place that has my children convinced that fairies are, indeed, actual creatures. They may question their beliefs in God, or Santa Claus, but fairies—? Never. They’ve met them personally.

At any rate, I rode an elephant with the girls, and I remembered being very, very young and believing wholeheartedly that an elephant at my local zoo was smiling at me because she knew I liked her.

I LOVE elephants. SOOOOOO much.

As I was about to dismount my elephant yesterday, I took a moment to lean over and hug her and tell her thank you for the ride. It was delicious.

Later, I hung out along the fence for the elephant area, and smiled at my friend. She walked over to where I was standing, and “petted” my face and tousled my hair with her trunk.

I know she knew I liked her.

And I swear she was smiling.

my mother told me that there were hidden cameras in public restrooms, and the staff was watching to be sure I washed my hands.

I was convinced I’d be sternly reprimanded-or worse, not served-if I wasn’t incredibly thorough.

To this day, I wash my hands more out of fear than out of desire not to catch leprosy.

was the first step in doing it.

I still do.

I just wish more people knew how important it is.

...not because my mother told me to, but because I worried that the peas/noodles/whatever on my plate would miss their friends that I’d already eaten.

...that I knew how to speak Meow. And maybe I did…George always seemed to understand what I was saying.