When we are old enough, we return ourselves to innocence, knowingly. Not like the innocence of childhood, but the wise, informed, innocence of aging.
We dance anyway even when it’s not our music. We do silly things even when the silly places are closed and we’re tired and we have to be silly alone. We laugh at the light. We suspend disbelief. We make jokes in the dentist office.
We return to innocence because innocence returns us to the newness of things, and we are at last old enough to receive the gifts of things, to delight in the delight of things given. Because innocence returns us to the surprise, the gift of the moment.
We return to innocence and innocence receives us with joy, repays with joy the only-ness of this moment, this gift, this giver, this giving.