Childhood lasts a lifetime.

I really like this thought because it can be read, and read into, in so many ways.

A reminder of our responsibility as parents – today – no matter how old our kids are.

A reminder to get off our collective arse, to knock on the doors of local schools and universities, to give our time to young people. (Not that he knew, my art teacher, Mr. Rice, was my dad when I was 16).

A reminder, for me at least, that it is neither unusual or wrong for some of the deepest scars incurred in childhood to still hurt.

A reminder that the best parts of childhood need not be gone. Some board tables I sit at are grey. The people around them; grey too. I’m the colour.

All of that is why I really like this thought. Because it can be read, and read into, in so many ways.

Childhood, I think, lasts a lifetime.

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