There is a certain type of sweetness in this world. I don’t write about it because I often forget that it still exists. I’ve watched technology and hatred and scandal sweep through the world and take away all the innocence that used to be our richest resource. It made me bitter and angry and it took things from me that I used to love. It made me lose the little girl that used to live inside of me; the little girl that loved her toy rabbit and wanted nothing more than to go horse-back riding again that day.
Lately I’ve been sorting through pictures that my mother took of me when I was little. I can still remember things that happened in those photos. I still remember how it felt before my parents fought, before I understood the concept of money. There was a time when the only pain I knew was a scraped knee and the only time I cried was when I was hungry. I can see the innocence in my eyes in those photos. My eyes that had seen so little that they still wanted to see more. I was beautiful, with my hair all a mess and mud covering every part of my skin one could see. I sat and thought for a moment with the smallest of all smiles on my lips and realized that I saw beauty in a world where there was none. I saw the goodness in the people that had none. I was optimistic and didn’t even know it.
There is still innocence in this world. It thrives in the hearts and the minds of all the little children. No matter what happens there is still a little girl somewhere who wants to wear her mother’s high-heels and walk around the house. Even through all the war and the hatred that little girl will sit in the middle of her mother’s room, make-up all over the place, lipstick all around her lips, laughing and eating a lollipop while her mother laughs with her and puts mascara on her for the first time.
Somewhere out there, there is a little boy who sits and ice fishes with his father. He doesn’t care that it’s cold he’s just happy to spend the day with his dad. He stares down at the hole in the ice and asks god if maybe, just maybe, he’d give him a fish. That’s the little boy who drops his pole when he feels a tug and cries when he sees his first fish. That’s the same little boy that gets his picture taken next to dad, proudly holding up his first catch. After the camera flash he cries again when he’s told that he can’t keep the already-named fish as a pet. He later enjoys bubbles as dinner.
Still in the world there is a bike with training wheels. It rattles down the sidewalk as a toddler rides it. It’s not just a bike, though; it’s also a rocket ship. It soars high up in spaces and it passes meteorite mailboxes and laser beam trees. It’s a pony, and it gallops through fields of pavement. It eats slices of watermelon and jumps over sticks the size of logs, whinnying each time its wheels squeak. The pilot of that ship and the rider of that horse is a laughing child, who someday, when the time comes, will shed those training wheels and learn to balance on just two.
That is what is beautiful in this world, those who still do no wrong. It is the children who have told no lies and who love unconditionally. It is the laughter that comes from a baby and the stick figure families drawn with stubby fingers and dull crayons. It is the toothless smiles and the tight hugs and kisses goodnight. It is the play dough puppies and the airplane spoons full of food. Innocence is pure beauty and freedom. Innocence is the silver-lining to the reckless world. Innocence is life.