Innocence
The loss of innocence is one of the hallmarks of growing up; maturity is prized over all other virtues.
But stories such as the Velveteen Rabbit, the Brave Little Toaster and Toy Story 2, told from the perspective of an entity whose entire existence hinged upon being played with, loved, or being there to comfort the innocent child and subsequently boxed, sold, donated or forgotten always grab my heart and squeeze.
I remember feeling guilty about not playing with certain toys when I was young(the only exception being Teddy Ruxpin).
I remember being overcome with a sense of guilt that I had neglected some toy, and been taken with a resolve to rearrange my stuffed animals so they all could see the room, none blocked by the animal in front of them, some being rotated into better positions so that no animal felt left out.
It seems to be a metaphor for my life, inasmuch as friends get "tossed" to the wayside as we move on in our lives. Sometimes its a relief to get the "toy" out of the room, like Teddy Ruxpin, no longer having to cower underneath the covers as he moves autonomously in the middle of the night to stare at you where you are, frozen in fear.
Others are lovingly placed in storage, where a trip into the attic will bring back pleasant memories and the sense of something forgotten regained.
Others are given to others to love more thoroughly than we ever could, to live a life of happiness we couldn't provide.
Yet all still take a well-deserved and infinitely earned piece of our hearts with them wherever they go.
My question is this: Is maturity worth this? I wouldn't go back even if I could, but not because where I am now is so much better, but because one cannot 'return to the farm after seeing gay paris."
And yet that time of innocence, when unconditional love abounded and was reflected through the fluffy heart of a stuffed white bear, was one of freedom in its own right.
But stories such as the Velveteen Rabbit, the Brave Little Toaster and Toy Story 2, told from the perspective of an entity whose entire existence hinged upon being played with, loved, or being there to comfort the innocent child and subsequently boxed, sold, donated or forgotten always grab my heart and squeeze.
I remember feeling guilty about not playing with certain toys when I was young(the only exception being Teddy Ruxpin).
I remember being overcome with a sense of guilt that I had neglected some toy, and been taken with a resolve to rearrange my stuffed animals so they all could see the room, none blocked by the animal in front of them, some being rotated into better positions so that no animal felt left out.
It seems to be a metaphor for my life, inasmuch as friends get "tossed" to the wayside as we move on in our lives. Sometimes its a relief to get the "toy" out of the room, like Teddy Ruxpin, no longer having to cower underneath the covers as he moves autonomously in the middle of the night to stare at you where you are, frozen in fear.
Others are lovingly placed in storage, where a trip into the attic will bring back pleasant memories and the sense of something forgotten regained.
Others are given to others to love more thoroughly than we ever could, to live a life of happiness we couldn't provide.
Yet all still take a well-deserved and infinitely earned piece of our hearts with them wherever they go.
My question is this: Is maturity worth this? I wouldn't go back even if I could, but not because where I am now is so much better, but because one cannot 'return to the farm after seeing gay paris."
And yet that time of innocence, when unconditional love abounded and was reflected through the fluffy heart of a stuffed white bear, was one of freedom in its own right.
posted by Hadrian: Dark One at 3:21 AM
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