We all, to some degree, wish we could have some element of our

Hear the words of the storyteller, Lee Unkrich, who spoke with tenderness of the heart’s longing: “We all, to some degree, wish we could have some element of our childhood back again while, for kids, moving on is something they're worried about. They know it's going to happen at some point.” These words strike deeply, for they reveal the paradox of time: that the young fear the future, and the old mourn the past. Childhood is a fleeting kingdom, bright with innocence and wonder, yet destined to fade, leaving us all yearning for its return.

The meaning is this: childhood holds within it a purity of experience that no later season of life can fully reclaim. In youth, each day is new, the heart unburdened by the weight of regret or the chains of responsibility. Adults, wearied by life’s demands, often gaze back with longing, desiring to touch again even a fragment of that golden simplicity. Yet children, sensing its inevitable passing, cling to it with both joy and dread, for they know that moving on is certain, though they may not yet understand what lies beyond.

The ancients knew this truth well. Consider the myth of Eden, the garden of first innocence. Humanity’s earliest home was filled with simplicity and harmony, but once lost, it could not be returned to. For every man and woman, there is an Eden within—the memory of youth. Like Adam and Eve, we are exiled from it, and though we toil and grow wise, a part of our soul still longs for the garden left behind. This is the wisdom of Unkrich: the path of life is a road away from innocence, and every traveler feels the ache of departure.

History, too, bears witness. When Anne Frank wrote in her secret diary, she confessed her fear of leaving childhood behind, even as the shadows of war forced her to grow far too quickly. Her words show both the longing to remain young and the awareness that change is unavoidable. The world demanded she move forward, though her heart was not ready. Through her life, we see the truth of Unkrich’s observation: children sense the fragility of their age, and adults forever wish they could recover it.

Yet there is hope in this sorrow. For though we cannot return to childhood, we can carry its essence forward—the wonder, the playfulness, the unguarded love. We may not recover the garden, but we may plant its seeds anew in our hearts and in the lives of our children. To cherish the laughter of the young, to cultivate joy in simple things, to see the world with fresh eyes—these are ways to honor the child within, even as we walk forward into maturity.

The lesson is clear: do not cling so tightly to the past that you miss the beauty of the present, nor fear the future so much that you shrink from it. Childhood is meant to be a season, not a prison; adulthood, though heavy, brings with it deeper joys of love, creation, and legacy. To live wisely is to treasure childhood, accept its passing, and carry its spirit into the days ahead. Moving on is not a curse, but the natural journey of every soul.

Practical action must follow. Look back with gratitude on your childhood, not with bitterness. Share stories, revisit places of memory, and honor the child you once were. At the same time, embrace the path forward—support the children of today, who look with both wonder and worry at their own journey into the unknown. Teach them that though childhood ends, the spirit of it can remain, if they learn to carry its light into every stage of life.

For remember this eternal truth: we cannot return to childhood, but childhood can live within us still. Let us not mourn its loss, but transform it into wisdom, joy, and compassion as we move onward. In this way, the innocence of youth is not forgotten, but reborn in every act of love, every spark of wonder, every step into the future.