A few days ago my granddaughter was driving down a country road with her children in the back. The five year old called out, “Mommy! Look! That cow is giving that other cow a piggy back ride.” I got a big laugh out of that, and then I began to think about how fresh the world is for young children. How new everything seems and how many questions they seek the answers to.

I am seventy-six years old now and innocence is mostly just a memory for me. I remember believing that my deceased grandmother lived behind a star and she was happy there. Such a comforting feeling that would not remain as innocence faded away. As a child I believed everything my mother said was true and that my dad could fix anything that was wrong. I trusted adults to be truthful and expected to be safe in their presence.

As adolescence came along so did skepticism as I learned more and more about the world around me and the people in it. The caution not to talk to strangers began to make sense as I came in contact with more who were outside the circle of safety of my family and neighbors. Not all the kids at school were good choices for companions. Some might even be dangerous and it became important to recognize danger and equally important to know which friends to trust. Then, along came boys. Boys who followed you around, teased and clowned to impress. Boys who saved a seat at lunch or walked home from school just to keep you company. Boys who visited your brothers but wanted mostly to spend time with you. Sweet, respectful boys who were not at all dangerous. Other boys, those who embarrassed you with dirty jokes or called you nasty names when you were not interested in them. Boys who would ruin the innocence you still had. Boys to stay away from.

I remember holding hands and kissing. Just that. The sweetness of a kiss all by itself that was not the start of anything. Just a kiss that was soft and warm, the kind that only happens once, or maybe twice before kissing is the beginning of something more.

Once someone said to me that we wish for innocence we lost just so that we could lose it again. That may well be so. In the time and place where I grew up innocence and ignorance were closely related. Parents tended to delay some information as long as possible in the hope children would not make poor choices if they didn’t know about adult matters. This was not a particularly effective practice, but common nevertheless. Many of my school mates knew very little about their own bodies and even less about the opposite sex. Menstruation came as a surprise to some and was a traumatic experience that might have been less so had they been informed. Even in today’s world there are those who are convinced that young people get pregnant because they have too much information about sex. Not so. Those who are innocent, maybe ignorant, do not have the knowledge needed to make a choice that serves them well.

I have been fortunate to look at the world through the eyes of my children, grandchildren and now the great grandchildren and see it as a fascinating place. To take a walk with a three-year-old through the back yard as she sniffs each flower in the garden and is in awe of the clover and the bees buzzing around. So may questions. Why is that flower purple? Do rabbits live in those bushes? Where do squirrels go at night? So very much to learn and it’s sweet to see her face when a new discovery is made.

I know that innocence does not, cannot, last. But we can keep that sense of wonder, that joy of discovery, if we choose to. If we strive to look through the eyes of children the world can be a place of wonder, even as age dims the brightness of our days there will always be something new to discover, something awesome to see, somewhere else to go.