Children have a different relationship with time.

A hill isn't something to walk up once.

It's something to run up twenty times.

Then roll down.

Then climb again.

An afternoon can disappear this way.

Not because they're busy.

Because they're paying attention.

To the shape of a tree.

A patch of grass.

Something interesting on the ground that no one else noticed.

The world feels larger when every part of it is worth stopping for.

Somewhere along the way,
we start measuring time differently.

We count it.

Save it.

Spend it carefully.

Children seem to do the opposite.

They take it.

As much as they need.

And for an afternoon beneath a flowering tree,

it almost feels like they might be right.