“Soon: A Child’s Lesson in the Complexity of Growing Up”
Soon: A Child’s Lesson in the Complexity of Growing Up
When we were children, ‘soon’ meant tomorrow. As adults, it means ‘someday’ — and that is how joy quietly slips away.
We are born simple, and that is where happiness lies. I often see kids enjoying themselves more than adults and wonder why that is. Even when they fight, it’s at a surface level and quickly leads to forgiveness. The reset button seems nearer to kids than to adults. I still remember this difference in thought from my childhood.
I was about five years old — old enough to visit the neighbour’s house, but young enough to still have a simple mind.
My sister’s house was in the same town, not very far from mine. Whenever I went there, the atmosphere was warm and friendly. I always felt loved. Her husband treated me kindly and often played games with me, which made the stay even more joyful. Her garden was big and full of fruit trees and flowers — everything a child could wish for.
Once, I stayed there for three days. At the time of departure, she said, “It was really nice having you here. Please come again soon.” Her husband drove me back home.
When I reached my house, it felt empty and boring. There was no special attention, no gardens to play in. By evening I was completely restless. Suddenly, I remembered my sister’s words — “come again soon.” I told my mother, but she said, “Soon doesn’t mean this early. Wait a few weeks or months.”
To my young mind, morning to evening was the very definition of soon. I trusted my instincts and went back.
Of course, she wasn’t expecting me. I entered her room — she was busy with something I don’t recall. She looked up and said, “Aww! You’ve come again!”
I was just a boy, but I clearly felt the sting in her tone. I left immediately and rushed home in tears. My mother asked if someone had scolded me. I narrated the whole incident, and she reminded me of her earlier warning.
That day I learned something shocking: what people say and what they mean can be entirely different things.
As I grew, I discovered yet another layer. It wasn’t only about speech and meaning — there are also gaps between what we think, what we say, and what we do. The very instrument of communication, meant to bring clarity, has become a root of confusion. We even had to invent a word for it: miscommunication.
It reminds me of Lao Tzu’s timeless wisdom: “In the pursuit of knowledge, every day something is added. In the pursuit of wisdom, every day something is dropped.” Childhood is full of wisdom because it has not yet been burdened with additions.
I often feel a constant battle among these three forces inside me. And with time, I realised it’s not just my struggle — it belongs to almost every adult. As Rousseau once said, “Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains.” We chain ourselves with words, with expectations, with meanings that children never worry about.
When I reflect on my childhood, and now when I watch my own child, I begin to understand why he radiates happiness most of the time — and why I do not. Khalil Gibran captured it best: “Keep me away from the wisdom that does not cry, the philosophy that does not laugh, and the greatness which does not bow before children.”
Just think over it.
Suggested reads: “A Child is Father of the Man: The Forgotten Question of Who We Are” https://www.rahulvut.com/2025/08/a-child-is-father-of-the-man.html
Thanks for your attention in this matter.Please write in the comment box if you have any similar experience or simply anything to add.
Comments
Post a Comment
Keep reading!!