Lately, one particular memory keeps coming to mind. It first popped in after I was thinking about being childlike, but it just keeps popping back into my head now and again.
And this is the memory.
A few years ago, I was staying for a couple of days with my sister and her family in Lehi. I believe my purpose in staying there had something to do with "helping" as I awaited hearing back about various job applications and, in general, tried not to be too maddened by my then-unemployed state.
I say "helping," because I'm never quite sure how much my presence helps. I mostly tended to distract the kids or talked to my sister once they'd gone to bed or I just helped herd them as she ran errands.
Anyway, one of the mornings I was there, I remember sitting at the counter. My niece (who would've have been, oh, two going on 3 or so at the time) was my breakfast companion. She had already aptly observed that my eye looked different, and I told her I hadn't yet put it in. She didn't know what to think of that comment until later when she watched me put in my prosthetic.
As we ate, she scrutinized my face in that way only a very small child can, then announced: "You have freckles, just like me." If she'd been older, I probably would have made a sarcastic comment about the wonders of genetics. Or maybe I wouldn't have, I don't know, because the way she pronounced the statement very much said: we're alike, we two, with our freckles. And because I've found a way that you are like me, I wholeheartedly accept you.