on turning 30: entering a second childhood

a return to the childlike wonder of it all, pure love, and a dose of 90s nostalgia.

“Running in the Park” by Trisha Adams

At the end of August, I say farewell to my twenties. My boyfriend, who turned 30 recently, often says that we’re in our second childhood now. 

As a child, everything was new and exhilarating! I lived most authentically during that treasured first decade of life, aligned with my spirit. I made art without hesitation, discovered the joy of reading, and wrote theatrical short stories in my lockable pink diary that had the words top secret! written on the first page in blue gel pen.

To create anything at all was a fulfilling experience. At six years old, I did not care that my art would likely not be considered valuable in society; I only knew that it fueled me to dip my fingers directly into paint and watch the colors transform into hues I had never seen before. My art was simply a creative expression of being alive in the world, and that was most significant. 

Along with creation, my deep connection to nature became an integral part of my existence. Our backyard was a wonderland for thrilling exploration––I would spend an entire summer’s day buried in a nearby forest seeking trees to climb, eating mulberries and honeysuckles, or watching communities of ants with a profound curiosity.

“Warm Woods” by Liz Hoag

There was nothing urgent to be done and no schedule to follow. I lived each day in complete presence, with no concept of time outside of what the enchanting sky revealed to me. I began the journey home only when the world around me was dripping in that particular evening’s vibrant sunset palette. 

Back in my turquoise room, the specific era that I lived in became more apparent. Time returned––it was the late nineties, early 2000s. I held tea parties with my family and stuffed animals, and made up dance routines to songs like Christina Aguilera’s What a Girl Wants and Genie in a Bottle. I sang Jessica Simpson’s I Wanna Love You Forever dramatically at the top of my lungs (still do), and repeatedly listened to Britney Spears’ Oops! I Did It Again album in my blue Sony CD player.

My closet was overflowing with toys––Polly Pocket, Bratz, Betty Spaghetty, the Barbie Dreamhouse, an Easy-Bake oven, and that horrifying Furby with a mind of its own. In my bookshelf, there was A Series of Unfortunate Events, Sideways Stories from Wayside School, Sammy Keyes, Harry Potter, and Goosebumps (best consumed under the covers with a flashlight).

I had plenty of material possessions that stimulated my childlike imagination, but what I remember most potently is the intense love that I gave and received back. This pure, open-hearted love toward myself, family and friends, nature, and the overall gift of life.

Yet life, too, would shatter me as the years went on, my sensitive heart becoming disillusioned and tainted. Still, every winding road has served a purpose of leading me back to the wholesome love that appears to be the true essence of self.

As I reflect on my years of innocence, it is clear that there was no confusion about who I would be when I “grew up.” The true soul path has always been conspicuous: What I have continuously gravitated toward is a life led by love; one that nurtures my creativity and places me in direct communion with nature. 

And so! My second childhood is here, now with twenty years of added wisdom. I have left behind the comfort of my apartment and temporarily moved back to the home of my youth in favor of seeing the world (new and exhilarating!).

When I initially returned to my turquoise room, I had the urge to repaint the walls immediately. I wanted to completely rid myself of my former favorite color and replace it with a more mature, toned down shade. But as I sat with the turquoise, I began to see it again through the eyes of my inner child––how fun it is in its loudness, while also calming like the sea. It is a color of balance, and so I worked with it to create a tranquil space that spoke to every part of me. 

In this second childhood, art is again made for the sake of creation. I am writing a novel, reading while sitting in trees, learning how to forage for wild berries, and following the nostalgic scent of honeysuckles in the summer’s air. And, most importantly, there is love. So much love that it seeps through everything. 

Just recently, I had a tea party with friends and we reminisced about the sweetness of our childhood, how we were all once little girls baking inedible cakes in our Easy-Bake ovens. “Does anyone else ever feel like a child just pretending to be an adult?” one friend asked as we sipped on Jasmine tea and ate macaroons. We all responded with a unanimous yes, giggling like children who just revealed a top secret.

𖤓 How do you nurture and honor your inner child? 

𖤓 What lessons can you learn from the child within? What wisdom can you offer?

𖤓 If you were to enter a second childhood, what would that look like for you?

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