by The Lulu
I miss my childhood.
I miss the version of me
that laughed from the stomach,
that ran barefoot without worrying about tomorrow,
that thought pain only meant falling from a bicycle.
Or taking hot pap and akara on Saturday morning in a rush
I thought my life was over when I made my mom angry or was forced to go to school
I thought my life was over when I came second in class
I thought my life was over when I was caught taking meat from mom’s pot
You see
Some people lost their childhood to responsibility.
To raising siblings while they were still children themselves.
Some lost it to bad parenting.
To silence.
To survival.
To homes that never felt like home.
Some children never got to play
they only learned how to endure.
And that is a kind of sadness
that walks with you into adulthood like a shadow.
Because one day,
you realize your inner child is still sitting somewhere waiting…
waiting to be heard,
waiting to be held,
waiting to finally feel safe.
So dear parent,
let your child be a child.
Let your child learn to play the piano,
not just play the role of “the strong one.”
Let your child draw on walls sometimes,
make little messes,
ask too many questions,
laugh too loudly.
Let your child know what it means to play in the rain
without fear of “holding back.”
Let your child chase butterflies,
climb trees,
dance in the living room,
sing off-key with a plastic microphone.
Let them share Christmas meals on tray
Let your child know what warm memories feel like.
Let them remember the smell of Sunday rice,
the sound of morning devotion,
the joy of falling asleep in the backseat after a long day out.
Let them have memories that hug them back
when life becomes heavy.
Because adulthood comes fast.
Too fast.
One minute they are asking for cartoons,
the next minute they are asking for cars too
One minute they are afraid of the dark,
the next minute they are battling darkness nobody can see.
So let them be little.
Let them be soft.
Let them be free.
Because the memories are all we have.
And moments shape us.
The little things become the loudest echoes.
The bedtime stories.
The random hugs.
The “I’m proud of you.”
“I love you”
The moments that looked ordinary
but became sacred with time.
Childhood is not just an age.
It is the soil where a soul first learns love.
And every child deserves a childhood
that does not need healing from.
