Like A Kid Again

The following will be another earthy-crunchy feel good parable.  It's about my friend Kaia.

Last week my husband and I joined Kaia and her parents for a picnic at the LACMA outdoor jazz concert.  If the picnicking were an Olympic sport, Kaia's Mom and Dad would be a shoe in for the gold.  They packed a scrumptious spread with sandwiches (on these globe size rolls), cheese, crackers, whole wheat quesadillas and FRUIT.  Glorious fruit.

Kaia nibbled on the quesadilla and sampled a few crackers, but mostly she was fixated on the fruit.  Watermelon, strawberries, grapes…she couldn't get enough.  Her mom even prodded her, "Kaia, have some more of the quesadilla."

But Kaia wanted fruit.

She didn't talk about how fruit was boring.  Or how she had read some book that told her that someone with her blood type really shouldn't be eating fruit.  She didn't mention that she was worried about having fruit for dinner because what if the fruit didn't fill her up and what if she got hungry later and she hates when she gets hungry late at night because she doesn't like to snack late at night because she read another book that said snacking late at night was terrible for you…just terrible…and did I think this fruit had too much sugar in it???

Nope.  She ate much fruit as her little heart desired.
And as soon as she had had her fill….

She stood up and said, "Momma.  Run now.  Can I run?"

And then she went for a run.  She didn't care that, rather than the latest running shoe, she was wearing sandals with sparkly pink jewels on them.  (She told me she picked them out herself...)  She didn't care that she wasn't wearing an ipod or that most people at the concert weren't running.  She didn't care how she looked or what other people thought of her.  She wanted to run...so she ran.

And I was so jealous.

You see, Kaia is 2 years old.  She is allowed to run and jump and play and people think it's adorable.  When the big 5'9" lady hops up and starts running and flailing about the jazz concert, authorities are called.

Running for a 2 year old is magic.  It's as if they have discovered a super power.  One minute they are these helpless little blobs and then…bam!  Without warning the two dangly appendages, that they had assumed were purely ornamental, have developed the ability to carry you from one place to the next.  And at such speed!!!  You would want to do it all the time, too.  It would be as if you woke up tomorrow and all of a sudden you could fly.  You would want to fly all the time.  You would want to show your friends and family, EVERYONE that…You. Can. Fly.

Then 30 years later you're bitching to your co-worker about how you hate flying and don't understand how people do it and you would only do it if you were being chased…but you feel like you should fly because you want to lose some weight, but flying is just so tiring and you are so busy and just can't find the time to fly…gosh you haven't flown since…. well, college it must have been…. yes, college… you were great flyer in college…even went to the state finals in flying…maybe you'll start flying again a couple of times a week….after the holidays, though… you are just so busy!

You can fly.  I'm speaking metaphorically now.  (Unless of course you actually can fly.  In which case, please email me.  I enjoy spectacle.)  You are filled with magic and light and have been given this gift of a body.  Yank the tarp off of it and do all the miraculous things that your inner 2 year old would want you to do.  Skip, play, laugh, run.  EAT FRUIT.

Do not let your body wither on the vine.  It is the best machine that you will ever lease.

-♥ J :)
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