Merry and Pure

I’m most of the way through a ramble featuring a Roman poet and ancient Chinese general, but haven’t the cognitive wherewithal to round it off.

So, gentle reader, suffer me a brief blab?

I bumped into an old colleague on the way to Elizabeth College this morning.

We exchanged pleasantries, and she asked what I’m doing at the college.

“Emotional support”, I reply.

“But not for me,” I say goofily, “for the students.”

As I walked the rest of the way up the Grange, my inane throwaway try-to-be-funny comment sent my head in a spin.

“Christ alfegginmighty ,” I thought, “if that isn’t true.”

Probably not orthodox (to admit), but very true: young people are healing.

Young souls have a curative quality, an honesty and an innocence that illuminates the dark malignancies that shroud adult society.

Such a cloud tried to descend upon me yesterday, but to the rescue I have one niece draped over my shoulder, head nestled in the nook of my neck; another niece doing funny walk competitions with me en route to hedge veg; yet another niece insisting we watch just one more of her ludicrously expressive dance performances.

Kids put things in perspective: what is essentially naturally good and what is not.

Their purity shows us what adulthood could potentially be – honest and innocent and fun and pure.

Flawed as merry hell, yes, but still, merry and pure.