Josh and I walked to the Dollar Store today in the rain, both of us carrying umbrellas. It was a real thrill for him to hold his own grown-up umbrella. His delight made me wonder when do we, as adults, lose the capacity to feel delight over the simple things in life? Do we get so jaded that we need more and more to enchant us?
Looking at the world through Josh's eyes has changed me. When I was raising my own kids, I didn't seem to have the time to experience the wonder of their childhood--unfortunately parents get so busy with working, keeping house, making drs appointments, chauffeuring, etc, etc, that they often don't get to savor the magic moments. I wish every young parent could read this and know that it's okay to let the housework go and to plan fewer activities and just enjoy the time with their kids and view he world through their eyes.
So, I have to ask myself, have I written my novel looking through my character's eyes? Am I seeing the world as a 13-year-old would see it or as I, an adult, would see it? I've tried to remember how I felt at that age-of course, it was a long time ago, but some feelings stay with you forever, especially the angst of adolescence.
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