And one day—maybe when you are spinning in an office chair for no reason, or blowing the fuzz off a dandelion in a parking lot—you will feel a hand slip into yours.
Small. Warm. Unafraid.
And you will finally remember: you were never supposed to outgrow yourself. You were only supposed to grow large enough to carry them both. Reclaiming the Inner Child
Reclaiming the inner child is not about being childish. It is about returning to yourself. And one day—maybe when you are spinning in
Let them choose the color of the crayon. Let them jump in the puddle. Let them speak the truth you’ve been filtering through thirty layers of "appropriate." Unafraid
The work is gentle, but it is not easy. Because that child also carries the hard things: the first time you were told to be quiet. The moment you realized your parents were fallible. The loneliness of a birthday party where no one showed up. To reclaim them, you must be willing to sit beside those memories—not to fix them, but to say, "I see you. I’m sorry you were alone then. I’m here now."
So you packed that child into a cardboard box and slid it into the darkest corner of your chest. And you forgot.