I Want Her Back

The little girl in pigtails. You know, the one whose starry-eyed dreams were not impossible. She believed in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy and good guys always winning.

I want her back!

Truth is, she hardly was. Ever since the first time she was sold a ticket and put on the boat to her first guilt trip, the words "little girl" did not apply to her. So busy was she trying to please everyone else, already plagued by the conundrums of adulthood that she forget her childhood was hers .... before her first day of school even.

I want her back!

The little girl not afraid or ashamed to cry when she was hurt or disappointed; who always had someone to run to when the tears fell down her cheeks and spilled onto someone else's shoulders. The little girl who was born older, knew from the get-go what was expected of her and tried so desperately to live up to those expectations that she only succeeded in failure. And learned enough from her failures to covet success.

I want her back!

The audacious, vivacious little girl with the unstoppable imagination. I feel her but I can only vaguely remember her. The world was hers before the world convinced her otherwise. So many of a summer morning she spent daydreaming of flying that hot air balloon above white puffy clouds, of riding a white horse as she kicked rocks across bare earth to hear the sounds of hoofbeats within them, of writing accolades, climbing mountains and shooting rapids. These were the dreams of that spirited child before her spirit was imprisoned.

I want her back!

The little girl not afraid to love and to be loved. The little girl whose heart was an open book and unashamedly proclaimed her love for the people around her, her love for the written word, her love for life in all its forms. That little girl precociously expected love in return without question. That was the little girl who was before the world taught her there is not always enough love to go around.

I want her back!

The child within. Silent. Hiding. A child with whom I have not conversed since, oh, so long ago. She sits in the shadows, knees hugged closely to her chest, huddling in her aloneness, in her oneness, not knowing what to say or what to do. She is as lost to me as I am to her.

And I want her back!