On Wonder

You know, it’s funny—I was just thinking back to my second-grade birthday party. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. No grand event, no wild surprises, but there’s this one detail that still lingers in my mind. 

There was a girl there named Irene. Now, Irene was… unique, to say the least. She was short, with these squinty eyes and a voice that, well, imagine a squeaky toy that’s been stepped on one too many times. That was her voice.

I remember it clearly—I was trying to enjoy my birthday cake or whatever was going on, when one of my friends leaned over and said, “Hey, Irene’s got a crush on you.”

 And I thought, *Oh no, seriously?* That’s just what I needed, right? At that age, I liked to think I was a bit of a catch, even in second grade! 

The last thing I wanted was anyone associating me with Irene, who—let’s be honest—looked a bit different. In my mind, that just didn’t work.

But now, as I look back, I start to wonder… How old would I have to be to not see those differences as something negative? I mean, second grade definitely wasn’t young enough. By then, I already knew the rules. I already knew which kids were cool, and which ones weren’t. When did that start? Before school, maybe? Before I could even talk?

It’s strange when you think about it. Language is such a double-edged sword. It helps us communicate, sure, but it also teaches us to judge, to categorize, to decide who’s in and who’s out. I didn’t come into this world knowing what ‘beauty’ was, or what ‘ugly’ meant. Heck, when I was born, *anything* was an upgrade from where I’d been for nine months! I wasn’t handed a rulebook about who to admire and who to avoid.

So when did that shift happen? Was it when I learned to talk? Or maybe even before that, when I just started picking up on the tones in other people’s voices? It’s funny, they say in Texas, they hand you a football the second you’re born if you’re a boy. Talk about getting an early start on the whole judgment thing!

But what if—just for a moment—we could go back? Back to that time when we didn’t divide the world into neat little categories of cool or uncool, pretty or ugly, normal or weird. I’d love to get back to that place. You know what I mean? Before the labels, before the judgments. That window of time when everything was just… *wonder.* 

Imagine it—someone with one leg? *Wonder!* Someone tall or short, thin or heavy? *Wonder!* Freckles or glasses? Pure *wonder!* 

Is it even possible to go back to that? Or am I chasing something that only exists in memory—or in, I don’t know, maybe a psychedelic trip?

So, yeah, maybe I’m rambling a bit here. But what I’m getting at is, wouldn’t it be something if we could see the world that way again? Just for a moment? If we could embrace the differences instead of judging them? Maybe then we’d realize that the beauty isn’t in everything being the same but in everything *being* different.

And on that note, I should probably get going. I have a fresh batch of brownies in the kitchen and I will select one randomly with my eyes closed.

I hope it doesn't have freckles.