THE CHILD

I wake up with the sun on my face.

The air is cool, and I hear voices outside the shelter. My mother is nearby. I do not need to see her to feel safe. I run outside, barefoot. The ground is warm and alive, every path familiar. The sky is open, the river glitters, the wind touches my hair like a friend.

The older children smile at me and tell me to follow. They show me where the sweet berries grow, how to listen to the river, how to notice what the forest is saying. They never tell me I am too small. I am part of them.

The adults are always working, but they are never too busy for me. If I sit beside them, they let me help. If I ask questions, they answer. If I fall, five hands reach for me. At night, we gather around the fire. The flames move and the elders tell stories about where we came from and who we are. I do not understand everything, but I feel the meaning. I fall asleep to the sound of voices, laughter, breathing, and the heartbeat of the world. I am five years old and I know I belong.

I open my eyes again.

Morning light comes through a small window. I hear pots in the kitchen and footsteps on the wooden floor. The house is tiny but full of life. When I step outside, kids are already in the street. We run, shout, climb, invent games from sticks and stones. We make rules together and break them together. Someone’s mother calls us to drink water. Someone’s father teaches us how to fix a bike.

People pass by and greet each other by name. They talk on the doorstep. They laugh in the yard. If someone needs help, nobody asks who should do it, they just do it.

My parents come home tired, but they are here. In the evening we sit at the same table. We eat and talk. They ask me about my day. I ask them about theirs. After dinner we go outside together, watch the sky, share stories. Time moves slowly. People are close. I fall asleep hearing the sounds of home all around me. I am five years old and I know I matter to the people I love.

I wake up again.

An alarm rings. The room is silent. The curtains are closed. A screen is already glowing. I pick up the tablet before getting out of bed. The colors move fast, the sounds are loud, but everything around me is still.

Mom is in the kitchen but she is not really with me. She is rushing. She talks on her phone. She drinks coffee. She says “good morning” without looking. Dad already left earlier. I eat while watching the screen. Nobody speaks to me.

I want to go outside, but Mom says to stay in. It is safer. It is easier. I go to my room. There are toys everywhere, but I do not touch them. I turn on a video instead. Hours pass. I barely move.

No one knocks on the door. I do not know who lives next to us. The neighbors are just names on mailboxes. The street is quiet. Everyone stays inside their walls.

When I get sad, I stay quiet. I know my parents are tired. I know they are busy. I do not want to bother them. I eat dinner with Mom and Dad but the TV speaks louder than we do. After eating, we all go to separate rooms. The house feels full and empty at the same time. I lie in bed with the screen glowing in the dark. I fall asleep with noise in my ears, but I feel alone.

I am five years old and I feel like I could disappear and nothing would change.

We have the same needs as always, it is the new world that isolates us. 

Same child.

Same heart.

Same need for love.

But the world changed.

Once, I was surrounded by people.

Then, I was surrounded by family and neighbors.

Now, I am surrounded by walls and screens.

Once, I learned by living.

Then, I learned by listening.

Now, I learn by scrolling.

Once, I felt part of something bigger.

Then, I felt part of a home.

Now, I feel separate from everyone, even myself.

We built comfort.

We built safety.

We built technology.

But somewhere along the way,

we stopped building each other.

A society is not measured by how much it owns,

but by how deeply it connects.

Things cannot raise a child.

Screens cannot hold a hand.

Entertainment cannot replace love.

If we lose time with our children,

if we lose community,

if we lose meaning,

then we lose the very thing that makes us human.

And no amount of stuff will ever bring it back.