Hide-and-Seek

Hide-and-Seek

I was on the way home from my father's church when I realized I had expressed the purest part of myself. I don't mean that I had a religious epiphany: I still believe that a linking power runs through us in the form of light and nature.

No, what brought the "meness" out was a simple question: "Can you play with me?"

I didn't really catch the first time she asked, but the lovely little girl Alice posed it again in a soft, undemanding voice. I scanned the basement that served our social hour and saw that all the other children had gone home. So, I quickly responded: "Sure!"

What insued was an all out, chasing and dashing hide-and-seek. We were so engrossed in the game that we forgot the fact that we were dressed up. She was elf-like with her long, blonde hair accentuated by her velvet green dress and matching lacquered shoes. I was very unplay-like in my tight, goldish pants and pointed pink shoes...None of this mattered, however.

We hid behind the piano (until Alice decided it was out of bounds), in corners: even behind the U.S. flag. (She said my shoes didn't match with the pole, so that's how she found me.)

I was having so much fun that I stopped only long enough to say goodbye to the people who were leaving. I wanted to be polite, but really–couldn't they see we were in the middle of a game? (Kids have my sympathy when they have to rein it in at the high point of a game.)

This "kidness" brought my "meness" more than most things in my life. That spark of life, humor, and joy comes out when I truly play. Children have the natural power to draw it out.

Photo: Kindel Media

Text: Kristen Mastromarchi