Defining Maturity

Not From These Parts / June 1, 2019

June first was night and day — morning came with a subtle hello from the Czech sun. My classmates and I made our way to a new side of the city for a trip to the flea market. On our tram ride, someone made the sarcastic comment about us being in such a nice area; my hesitant giggle was quickly put to rest by our Professor’s first steps out onto the street. Youthful eyes danced up the walls and down the crooked sidewalks. This was a part of the culture us spoiled kids hadn’t been familiarized with yet. So we take a turn, drop our 20 crown into the gate slots, and walk past expressionless police.

Dennis had said making a good photograph here would be a challenge, and I’ve been put into some pretty uncomfortable situations where a DSLR around my neck was quite the opposite of helpful. My first few paces past a chest of swords and a wooden case of pistols became a remarkable addition to the list. My focus points would take their first spin of the day, illuminating the flashing hand of a grown man attempting to hide his face. I moved on. Next they were greeted by an array of cigarette smoke and tired smiles from a couple surrounded by broken watch faces and worn leather. I moved on. This time, merely to find myself treading lightly in both slight annoyance and slight panic. A man fled the security of his car to gift me with shouts in a language which I could not understand, but a tone which I was all too familiar with. Mom was right – I suppose I’m not all that sneaky.

I walked through my afternoon feeling defeated, but was filled to the brim by a seemingly frozen moment in time on my way home for dinner this evening. Amidst the hustle and bustle of town square, my eye caught a twinkle in the sky. I hurried down the street to be greeted by this sight. How refreshing. The simple arrangement of thin rope and sticks became the source of my greatest joy today. I don’t think the nature of children will ever fail to completely mesmerize me.

A forever question of mine – why do we long for the escape of immaturity but seek to be all that it fabricates? Adulthood is glorified. Success, maturity, prosperity: we are fed this idea from the day we’re born. I think we’ve got it all wrong.

I think the real immaturity is in our failure to recognize the finer things in life. The day we leave our innocence behind is the day that we lose all of the wonderful quirks that we were born with – attributes that make life well, lively. Children are fearless, bold, curious. They lack judgement and forget the pressures of the world. They pursue people and find success in happiness. If this is what immaturity is, I don’t think I ever want to grow up.