I have a vivid memory of being at recess with my best friend in the third grade. We sat at the swings together, pumping our legs, trying to see who could get higher. 

“I have a secret to tell you,” I said. 

She stopped herself from swinging, eyes bright with excitement. 

The words were fighting to escape my mouth.

“I have a crush on Sam.”

I felt brave. The moment felt sacred. 

My friend leaned in closer. 

“I won’t tell anyone.” She put her pinky out. I hooked it with mine. 

“You pinky promise?” I asked. 

“I pinky promise.” 

It felt tangible, like trust had weight. I believed it completely. At eight years old, a pinky promise was the real deal. I held that promise the way you hold something breakable, something fragile; carefully, without considering that it might slip. 

The next day at recess, before I could even get to the swings, I was hearing my words repeated back to me. Except they weren’t coming from my best friend. And they weren’t the words I had said, they were distorted and louder. 

I stood there confused. Not angry, not even sad. I just didn’t understand what that meant yet. 

I looked around. My secret seemed to be everywhere, my words floating around, growing louder and gathering laughter. A circle wrapped around something that used to belong only to me. 

I found my friend and told her what was happening. I searched her face, waiting for loyalty to step in. She laughed. Then she ran towards the others. 

I stood there confused. 

That second in time, my innocence fractured. My friend, who smiled at me yesterday as we hooked our pinkies together, had chosen the crowd today. 

Pinky promises were meant to mean something. Trust was meant to be permanent. Friendship, I thought, knew no betrayal.

I had a silent calculation.

Maybe I shouldn’t tell everything. Maybe I shouldn’t trust so easily.

Innocence is fragile. 

And the world has a way of chipping away at it. An initial betrayal from a friend, a harsh word here, an injustice there, exposure to cruelty we weren’t ready for. The first experience of being left out of a game for no reason. Learning about financial struggles, divorce or loss. The first glimpse of injustice when seeing someone treated unfairly and even more disappointment when seeing no one doing anything about it. Hearing news about violence, disasters or cruelty. Being misunderstood or lied to. Loving completely and then losing it all, just to feel every ounce of heartbreak your heart could possibly handle.

It all leaves a mark.

Innocence is sensitive.

Innocence is beautiful and important. 

And it should be handled with care, treated delicately. 

I often think about my younger self, this child filled with wonder, convinced I could do anything, certain the world would simply open up for me. I believed that being kind was the natural way to live and that the world, in turn, must be kind too. I also believed that everyone would follow its lead, everyone would be kind. 

Innocently, I thought that. 

Now I know that isn’t how life works. The world can be harsh. People can do cruel things, and not everything works out. 

Less innocently, I know that. 

I could be mad about that, curse the world for taking it from me, hold resentment toward people, shrink in fear. I could let the world strip away all of my softness, make me cold, steal my innocence completely.

Or I can be the kind of person my younger self dreamed the world had. I can keep my softness, my kindness, my innocence. I can choose to see the beauty in the world.

Because that is where innocence returns.

It returns in the moments you smile at a stranger and they smile back, in the days when someone’s small kindness reminds you that goodness still exists. On the mornings when sunlight peaks through your window and catches the world just right, or when laughter spills freely and unexpectedly. When your coffee is brewed exactly how you like it and a neighbor waves hello. In the opportunities to do the right thing, to stand up for what’s just. When you witness a good deed and your heart glows with the same wonder you once had.

The choice is entirely up to you, but only one leads to true joy: the decision to remain soft, to be kind, to believe there is still good in the world, to trust that promises are meaningful and to hold onto the innocence that makes life worth believing in. 

That is where innocence returns.