Private

I'm in a mellower state this afternoon, contentedly focused on giving the smoothest possible ride on this 70. A youthful man in a sweater, one of those young professionals returning home from the Eastlake corridor, comes forward to stand for a while, watching the proceedings up front. After pulling the bell, he says in a congenial Indian accent, "there is something so satisfying about being the one to pull the cord!"
"Say again?"
"There is something strangely satisfying about pulling the bell cord!"
"Yes, there is!" 

How lovely, that he felt comfortable sharing such offbeat innocence with a friendly stranger. We all have thoughts like this, but how often do we refrain from sharing our love for the simple pleasures, just for the sake of petty sophistication, irony, coolness? Being ourselves, in the purer sense, is both easier and much harder. It requires a belief that we'll draw toward us those souls who are similarly minded, and a genuine disregard for the judgments of everyone else. 

In an enthusiastic sense of esprit de corps I exclaim, "I think so too! It brings out the inner child in us."
He sighs happily and says almost by way of explanation, "I think my inner child is always out!"
"I think that's good. I try for the same."
"Well, thank you. Like seriously, your cheerful attitude brightened my whole entire day!"
I didn't realize I'd been doing much of anything, in my mellow state. "Thank you so much!"

When I see photographs of myself as a child, I sometimes think, that little person knows so much more about how to be happy than I do. He flutters on ahead, beckoning and unreachable, dancing a little further ahead on the path of life. 

One day perhaps I'll catch up.