a shortie

Just now on my way to the laundry room, a wee little person (maybe 4) came out of a door down the hall and said Hello to me as if we were long-lost friends who hadn't seen each other in far too long and she was just thrilled to lay eyes on me. Well, Hello! And I was momentarily stopped. Not just because of the absolute awesomeness of being greeted so happily and enthusiastically, but because it reminded me that there was a time when being open to the world and the people and places in it was just the most natural thing ever.

My mom told me of a time when I was about that size and i had just gotten over the chicken pox and felt it was important as i rode on the train with my grandma, to show all the other passengers the red little bumps on my belly by pulling up my dress and informing random strangers all about it. first of all: who takes a train in LA? second: although i don't remember this moment, alrighty then, why not?

when I was little, i have a dim memory that it was my world and i was just glad you could stop by. although selfish, i don't think egotistical, because my ego wasn't that fine-tuned yet. hell, i didn't even know what that word meant. but tell me i couldn't play or say the way i wanted to, and that would be a problem. it was also a time when there was no real fear of rejection, as i remember it. as the shields come up over time, both to protect and inhibit, i stopped being so fear-less, which no doubt helped me in countless growing-up ways.

but still, my little neighbor reminded me tonight how awesome it is to just be completely present in that moment of walking out the door and welcoming what comes. what's the worst that could happen? they don't say hello back...i'll live.