Innocence

Written on May 25, 2009 and originally posted to my Facebook profile.

Today, I was at the laundromat for my weekly ritual of cleansing the clothes I wear. Now, that is not momentous in and of itself, everyone has to do laundry; it is my recent interactions with some of the people at the laundromat that have caused me to think about the idea of innocence and how in today's world, that is something that seems to be lost.

In addition to the usual assortment of single professionals such as myself that I see in the laundromat, I often see families there, and at times my heart goes out to these dear people. While as a single person living in an apartment as I have done for the greater part of my adult life, I take it for granted that a weekly trip to the laundromat is just part of the routine. However, I can only imagine what an extra burden it is to drag a family's load of laundry along with kids to a laundromat. When you're of limited means, such as these people are, you simply have to play the hand you're dealt, and do what you have to do.

This note is not, however, about that situation. It is about a small part of one of these families. I'll call her Anna, and I'd say she is probably around two or three years of age. She has dark curly hair and probably comes up a head taller than my knee. I was sitting outside on the stoop reading a magazine and enjoying the warmth of the day while waiting for my clothes to finish their rounds in the dryer when little Anna boldly came up to me, sat down beside me, and pointed to a car and in her just learning to talk way, tried to say "car". It sounded more like "bahh". We spent a few minutes out there learning that the other large things in the parking lot were also "bahhs".

Moments later, her father came out, and in a flurry of Spanish that was spoken too fast for me to fully understand, hurried her back inside where he could keep an eye on her. Later inside, when I was folding my clothes, she still would approach me, wanting to talk. Moments later, her father would apologetically hurry her away.

I did not mind her interruptions. She was such a happy, outgoing child; one of those who could brighten the darkest place just with her happiness and pure innocence. She added color to the dullness of the laundromat. She seemed to be just having fun, right there where she was. I only wish I still had that ability.

As I finished up my chores, I began to find myself wishing that we could live in a world where children such as Anna could let the light of their innocence shine, without having to worry about dire consequences. I wished I did not feel the need to worry for her safety due to her willingness to approach and talk to strangers.

While I happily spent time on the stoop with her, helping her learn the names of the things around us; unfortunately there are others in this world who would take advantage of Anna's innocence in order to cause her harm for their own sick and demented purposes. I found myself worrying for Anna's sake, and hoping and praying that her outgoing nature would never lead her to harm. I felt it a sad testament on humanity that a little girl could ever come to harm just because she wanted to talk to someone.

We are all well taught from our youth to "never talk to strangers", and I am certain Anna will get that lecture when she gets home, but that is the first and unfortunately necessary seed of mistrust that is sown in young lives. It only grows from there, to where we mistrust many people for sometimes trivial reasons. Those whom we don't know, we don't trust; and those we don't trust, we also don't love. The loss of child-like innocence, I think, is at the root of many of the world's problems. We don't come into this world hating people who are a different color or faith from us; we learn it.

We live in a world that needs our prayers. This world should be a place where Anna and others like her can live and play without fear or concern; where the only thing a stranger will do is point out that the big thing with four wheels in the parking lot is called a "car".