When I was younger, my father took me to the beach every weekend. Ofcourse, I didn't know how to swim yet back then but like any other kid, I enjoyed playing in the sand..taking a few steps into the water and running back before it crossed my mind to do something as utterly insane as go any further. One day, I was lying at the shore when a white tiny creature with colorful polka dots landed on my tummy. I paniced! I smacked the tiny thing assuming it bit and jumped yelling to my dad for help. He came running to see that my outbreak was over a butterfly. Well, in my defense, I never knew butterflies could come in white and polka dots. All I knew were the beije ugly ones. Anyway, I still recall the incredible sensation of guilt when my dad told me what it was and that I had broken its wing. It limped on and I headed back home feeling like I have done the worst thing that could ever be done.
I wish I could go back to that time. A time when the worst thing I have ever done was accidentally break a flying creature's wing or throw that sandwitch my mom insisted on giving me everyday for lunch in school. When the things I knew in life didn't even cover the different colors of a butterfly...and when smacking one was the biggest disappointment I could ever cause my father.
I long for a time when such purity and innocence existed.