AS A BOY of about 4, I remember looking down to study the ground at my feet which represented our neighbor’s driveway, and wondering how I could do so, and reach down to pick up pebbles, or kick them away.
And as a 1st Grader (age 5 or 6) while walking home from school in winter, a snow hill presented itself, and as I climbed it, I remember thinking of how grown up I felt; as I was independent enough to walk home from school alone, choose where my feet would take me, and climb, or not climb, that hill, etc.
I remember how it seemed that I had already lived a very long time. This was because I couldn’t remember the start, making it seem so long ago. At that young age, it felt as if I had already been alive forever.
And, who knows. Maybe we are.
Thwarticus 