There are moments when the world arrives so freshly it feels like you’ve stepped into it for the first time. The air changes. Colors sharpen. Sounds land differently. For a second, there’s no story to hold it.
That’s childhood wonder—not as a memory, not as nostalgia, but as something immediate and present.
Most of us assume we grew out of that. But what if it never went anywhere? What if it’s still here, under the mental scaffolding we call “being an adult”?
Sometimes it takes something simple—walking through a doorway, stepping outside, feeling the day touch your skin—to see what’s been here all along.
A Doorway, a Dog, and a Sudden World
You know, we never really grow out of our childhood.
This struck me today when I walked from the kitchen through the door to the back porch with Grizzly the dog. Both Grizzly and I had this experience of total wonder at the world outside. It was as if the world I had existed in one second before was completely gone, and then this world appeared—different sights, sounds, smells, textures, everything.
The wonder of it, the profundity, the innocence and simplicity—it was really poignant.
And it dawned on me: that childlike experience of the world is still here, of course, for all of us.
There are moments when the world arrives so freshly it feels like you’ve stepped into it for the first time. The air changes. Colors sharpen. Sounds land differently. For a second, there’s no story to hold it.
That’s childhood wonder—not as a memory, not as nostalgia, but as something immediate and present.
Most of us assume we grew out of that. But what if it never went anywhere? What if it’s still here, under the mental scaffolding we call “being an adult”?
Sometimes it takes something simple—walking through a doorway, stepping outside, feeling the day touch your skin—to see what’s been here all along.
A Doorway, a Dog, and a Sudden World
You know, we never really grow out of our childhood.
This struck me today when I walked from the kitchen through the door to the back porch with Grizzly the dog. Both Grizzly and I had this experience of total wonder at the world outside. It was as if the world I had existed in one second before was completely gone, and then this world appeared—different sights, sounds, smells, textures, everything.
The wonder of it, the profundity, the innocence and simplicity—it was really poignant.
And it dawned on me: that childlike experience of the world is still here, of course, for all of us.
There are moments when the world arrives so freshly it feels like you’ve stepped into it for the first time. The air changes. Colors sharpen. Sounds land differently. For a second, there’s no story to hold it.
That’s childhood wonder—not as a memory, not as nostalgia, but as something immediate and present.
Most of us assume we grew out of that. But what if it never went anywhere? What if it’s still here, under the mental scaffolding we call “being an adult”?
Sometimes it takes something simple—walking through a doorway, stepping outside, feeling the day touch your skin—to see what’s been here all along.
A Doorway, a Dog, and a Sudden World
You know, we never really grow out of our childhood.
This struck me today when I walked from the kitchen through the door to the back porch with Grizzly the dog. Both Grizzly and I had this experience of total wonder at the world outside. It was as if the world I had existed in one second before was completely gone, and then this world appeared—different sights, sounds, smells, textures, everything.
The wonder of it, the profundity, the innocence and simplicity—it was really poignant.
And it dawned on me: that childlike experience of the world is still here, of course, for all of us.