It was one of those quiet spring mornings that almost makes you forget how fast life moves.
The kind where the sunlight feels soft instead of bright. Birds making noise for no reason. Damp sidewalks from rain the night before. Everything still waking up.
I was standing outside with coffee in hand when I saw this little kid heading to school.
Maybe six years old.
And he wasn’t just walking.
He was skipping.
Not the fake kind adults do when they’re being goofy. Real skipping. Completely committed to the moment like the world had nowhere else he needed to be.
Halfway down the block he spotted a mud puddle and jumped right into the middle of it without hesitation.
Then he darted across the street and disappeared into a patch of bushes near the alley. A few seconds later he popped back out again, sprinted through a neighbor’s yard, and vanished down the alley toward school like he was on some classified mission only he understood.
I laughed and said to Tim, “Do you remember when just getting to school was an adventure?”
And almost on cue, another front door opened.
This time it was a teenager.
Maybe fifteen.
Backpack hanging low. Head down. Tired before the day even started.
A few seconds later his mother came out behind him with her keys already in hand.
They climbed into the car and drove the two and a half blocks to school on an absolutely perfect morning.
And I remember standing there thinking how strange it is that nobody announces the day the adventure ends.
At some point, puddles become inconveniences.
Alleys become unsafe.
Walking becomes inefficient.
And getting somewhere becomes more important than experiencing anything along the way.
Maybe that’s part of growing older.
Not losing imagination completely…
Just trading curiosity for schedules.
Wonder for convenience.
Adventure for arrival.
But every once in a while, if you’re lucky, you see some six-year-old kid splashing through a puddle like he owns the morning…
…and you remember that life used to feel a little bigger when you weren’t in such a hurry to get through it.
If this resonated with you, you’re not alone.
