A blanket and hair-dryer
Some people, lazy day-dreaming types like me, can spend a lifetime capturing a childhood that came and went by. Childhood is probably the only time a person ever experiences pure, unadulterated happiness. An adult, even one experiencing the intoxicating high of falling in love, or a spiritual experience involving a nirvanic connection with God cannot compete with the happiness of a childhood that has never known any real sadness or seen this ugly world for what it is.
When I was really young, perhaps 6 years old, I remember being tucked in by my mother. When she left the room, I remember feeling a burst of happiness as I lay there in bed. My parents had bought a hair-dryer that day and I was looking forward to exploring this fascinating creation tomorrow when I woke up. I was also covered up in a new fuzzy blanket which I also thought was incredibly exciting. I remember kicking my legs under the sheets in happiness and thinking to myself “what more do I need?” My life was complete.
I’ve often tried to recapture what it felt like to be alive at that time in my life. I just wanted to feel that way again. I’ve since learnt that this behavior is called regression and is a defense mechanism. Before I knew what it was called, I knew there was something odd about wanting to go back to the days when I was a child. The world cannot be faced the way it is by a child. You need to be an adult, bitten and stung by life before you can stand a chance of getting by with minimal hassle. Childhood, I suppose is a God-given gift, hopefully to be looked back at fondly; a memory best left in the past.