Innocence

Innocence. What a perfectly blind thing. We were all children once. We all had that innocence in us, telling us that everything was going to be okay. That the world was a flawless place. You had no care in the world. You never fathomed that someone could be mean. No one could do any wrong. No one would get sick. Nothing would ever disfigure the world. No one would harm an animal. Mom was happy, and Dad would never leave. 
  
  Everything existed only for the good of the world. I remember being a young girl, and playing in the forest on the Washington Peninsula. My cousins and I would dress up in capes and run through the moss covered evergreens. Dodging branches and drinking in the feeling of the wind whipping our capes behind us. Our wide childlike eyes taking everything in without judgement. The air was brisk, but we were Washington raised. Our skin could take the cold. In fact we preferred it that way. It was on my cousins farm that we would roam the deep forest. We would catch frogs on the pond, and see how many we could keep in the boat at one time. We made hay forts in the loft of the barn so our parents couldn't find us. We stayed in those forts all day, telling ghost stories at night while braving the dark. Digging for clay in the rain. Riding horses on the rural backroads. Building teepees by the creek. Gathering berries and vegetables. Eating sour apples from their tree by the porch. Gathering eggs from the chicken coup. Sleeping outside in the back of my cousins old Ford Ranger. Cowboy boots. Muddy jeans. Berry stained fingers. Everything was perfect.

  And then we grew up. The forests where we once roamed, now empty of the sound of children's laughter. The pond still as glass. The hay unmoved, with no hidden caverns or tunnels. The apples unpicked. Capes unworn and collecting dust. Our fingers clean from blackberry stains. When was it that we stopped believing that the world was enchanting? At what point did we hang up our innocence? Now we are grown, and our minds are flooded with the troubles of the world. We see the bad. We feel the hurt. Life experience has left us untrusting and cautious. Childhood friends have moved on. Cousins have moved away. Animals have passed. Trees have fallen. Trucks have broken down and rusted. The sounds of bluegrass have faded. And Dad really did leave.