When I was a little girl I didn't often walk to places. I either ran or skipped. I loved skipping. I'd skip to the store to buy a gallon of milk. I'd skip to school. I'd walk my friend Jodene halfway home after school and we'd skip along together singing "Fuzzy Wuzzy was a Bear". Have you ever tried to do that, skip with a friend with your arms around each others' shoulders and singing at the same time? It takes a certain kind of talent. I loved skipping rope at recess. I was a very happy and carefree little girl and skipping seemed to be the way I was able to release all the joy I had in living bottled up inside of me.
I was just outside taking Chloe dog for a walk and as I passed a duplex at the end of our street I'm not sure who the man was talking to the young neighbor lady who lives there but he was instructing her on taking anti-anxiety medication, that a lot of the anxiety she's feeling recently may be from a change in dosage. As I heard that I got to thinking about this society, this world, we live in. How fleeting the years of carefree youth are. How maybe getting out and skipping might do us all a huge amount of good. Of psychic healing. Of lowering our anxiety levels. Bringing down our blood pressure. I mean, really. Don't you remember how good it felt to skip?
I plan on teaching my little grandsons how to skip. I plan to skip right along with them. Can you imagine how much joy that will cause them, to have their crazy ol' Grandma skip right along with them? I'm the silliest Grandma who ever lived. I know I am. But I remember the pure and simple freedom of childhood. That has never left me. Neither has the ability to skip.