I like seeing toddlers on the street with their parents telling them to stop whining for something they could never have but want to own. I feel relieved every time they don’t stop crying – trying to manipulate their parents’ temperance with an attitude they would never feel like having once they grow up. But seeing them smile makes me more than relieved. It makes me emotional.
Looking at the way they become happy makes me jealous of their ark shaped eyes and lips that are void of hurt and worries. This is something adults can have but can’t easily attain. And I find it amusing how children maintain their glow through their scraped knees and chocolate-like faces after a long day spent with dirty clothes and filthy but lovely neighborhood playmates.
Sometimes when I hear them express their young thoughts to anyone they feel like telling to, I think of my childhood and become curious by my curiosity. Later on, I’d like to think that I’m like them but a little later I realize that I’m not. It’s funny that way, especially how they could get along with anyone through their chubby cheeks and bulking bellies, and get hurt whenever they couldn’t find their favorite toy. In a moment or so they wouldn’t be hurt anymore because of their parents’ unending toy promises. Their hope and acceptance are what struggle me to learn the most.
Scattered in the streets they are, I feel pressured on what smile I’d like to have in this swarm of innocence. Their cute body structure makes the choice harder while their teeth gaps make it easier for me to look deeper. They all look like a collection of gems dipped into a bowl of marshmallows and candies. I want to feel that way.
After a long day spent with clean clothes and uncertainty, I notice that they are void of cheekbones too, and I’m jealous of that.