When I was a child a warm almost summer night was spent running through the neighborhood. A conglomerate of children, pick up games of sorts, just sitting on a park bench with a group of friends. There was no way to text a friend, or even call, to say where the hang out place was. It was a nice night, you were out, you found the hang out place. Those were the night’s where my memories were made. Those were the night’s where I cherished being a child. Those were the night’s that I wished would last forever.
Tonight my neighborhood took me back into nostalgia. A pick up baseball game of a conglomerate of kids. Children that go to the same school, children of different personalities, children that live next door to each other, children that are just that…children. For a few brief hours I saw what was once my childhood, I saw what being a child is meant to be, I saw a glimmer of hope. I pitched ball to each of these children, watched them run, listened to them argue, and for that game I was parallel to them for a brief moment. Being a child is never easy in any generation.
There was laughter, teams being formed, rules being made as deemed necessary, bickering, mediation, water breaks, more children joining, and oh, did I mention laughter. But best of all there was not an electronic device in sight, not an aspect of socialization lost within the reflection of a screen.
To quote Robert Frost, “As dawn goes down to day, nothing gold can stay,” maybe good things don’t have to come to an end. Maybe we just need to act like a child with the conglomerates.