Wide Open Heart
This is Max's new friend Holly. We met her in Ireland. They took one look at each other and were immediate fast friends--as though their whole short lives were leading up to this one moment. She runs like the wind and throws balls really really high. Like Max she can scale walls, poles, trees with ease and grace. After he met her in County Clare, the first words out of his mouth each morning were :"Mommy--is she coming over today?" He didn't even have to say her name. We both knew that SHE was Holly.
Holly speaks with a crisp British accent. While I warned the hiking children by saying "Hey kids--look out for those prickly thingies" she passed the message down the line by saying "Mind the thistles now". The mischief in her huge twinkling blue eyes I had expected to see on fairies only. No wonder Max loves her so.
Together the two of them played hard for four days straight until her family had to return to their home in the south of England. But when she left it was hard for me to believe that I hadn't known her her entire life.
She and Max brought out the adventurer in each other. They scaled walls, invented games, made art and explored. Over castles and fields, restaurants and city streets they lived again and again fully and completely in each and every moment. They suggested outlandish games and hid from the two year old. They occasionally had to take to separate corners--but mostly they tumbled along in sheer wonder and bliss.
Watching the love affair between them unfold I was envious. Such instant friendships do indeed seem the stuff of childhood. We adults are more guarded. We chat about nothing for awhile, circulating around each other suspiciously, asking questions that will tell us whether we can take a step closer. We protect our wounded hearts carefully - don't reveal too much--we know how easily it is to be hurt when we lead with a wide open heart. We know how hard goodbyes can be and find ourselves censoring ourselves--not wanting to commit our real selves to things that won't last.
But as I joined their gleeful romps, I found myself questioning that supposedly smart adult behavior. I marveled at how two children who dared to live completely without fear of loss were able to experience such utter joy. I found myself wanting to be like them.
Its amazing to me how as an adult I tend to look at new people through the lens of time: How long have I known them--How long they will be around. I warm up slowly, revealing little bits of my soul. Carefully and slowly unfurling my dreams and thoughts when I know it is safe. Its not been a bad strategy--I have made many wonderful friends this way. But I wonder about the missed chances to connect--the people who were only around a few days or weeks--the people I never let down my guard for and who consequently I will never see again. I wonder about the joy I might have missed while I was worried about protecting my wounded heart.
Because my wise young son dared lead with a wide open heart we now have new friends. Holly and her family are coming to the US for a visit next year. She and Max have planned to take a ride in Uncle Sean's police car and go to Grandma's house on the beach. They will marvel at skyscrapers in NY and look for sea shells. Perhaps it will end there. Or maybe it will continue with subsequent visits to the UK. In some ways what the future holds is not important--we have already gained so much from knowing them.
And me, I have decided to emulate the girl with the fairy-like eyes and the boy with green socks. I have vowed to take chances with new folks. To let my kookiness shine with strangers. I still think I will protect pieces of myself from people who clearly don't get me but I will channel Max and Holly when I find myself censoring for all the wrong reasons. I will welcome each stranger with a wide open heart.
