Can you guess to whom these charming baby shoes belong to?
That's right! They are mine and I am GRATEFUL to my mom for keeping them almost 40 years and more...
Looking at this most treasured keepsake, I can see that little curious girl who liked to draw butterflies and flowers on every possible paper sheet; the girl who sang with pleasure every single time she was asked to (even through the phone), enjoying the attention and the applause; who demonstrated a great ability of reading text at about four-years old; who liked wearing shorts and short hair, but also was extremely picky about her dresses from a very early age, her mama said...  
Sometimes I miss that girl. She seems distant and I can barely remember her.
Other times, her presence is such an organic part of me, especially when joy and beauty fill my days. On such days she is so alive and joyous that I let her out to swing at the park, jump in the puddles, lay on the grass, make snow angels in the snow, bake cookies in a messy kitchen...This little girl with her polished shoes is in me when I dive into those random moments of happiness or when I simply wander through the window while my mind flows with the birds. This little person is the force that pushes my creativity, keeps my imagination alive and holds my sense of amazement. I guess, because of her, at forty-something, I love reading children's books and gazing through the dreamy illustrations as much as I love laughing out loud, having chocolate for breakfast (well, sometimes), chasing the rainbow with my son...  
I hate the times when she disappears, perhaps, because through the years, I have learnt how important for my adult life the inner child inside is and how lost I feel in her absence (often this little self knows me better than anybody else and she helps me to remember myself). But I know how to accept and love this girl without feeling immature and childish, how to keep her safe and free within my heart. And whenever she goes back to sleep, I know these red shoes will always help me awaken her. 

“When my daughter was about seven years old, she asked me one day what I did at work. I told her I worked at the college - that my job was to teach people how to draw. She stared at me, incredulous, and said, "You mean they forget?”                                                                 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               ― Howard  Ikemoto

                                                                          What keeps your inner child alive, dear friends?

Thank you for bringing joy to my day!

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