(Originally appeared in Sense and Psychotherapy, Summer 1999)

As a child, I was always excited when the school year ended and summer vacation began. I could look across the coming summer and see that I had days, weeks and even months, just to play. And play I did. My numerous siblings and I were some of the millions of kids growing up in the new suburbia of the ‘50s and ‘60s. There were always plenty of kids in the neighborhood to play with, and there always seemed to be plenty of things to do.

I’d start my favorite summer days by getting out of my pajamas and directly into my swimsuit. I wouldn’t take the suit off again until I had to put my pajamas back on. We had a large, circular, above-ground pool in our backyard, and many of my most vivid memories are of hot days in the cool water. We did all the typical things kids do in pools; races, whirlpools, underwater “tea parties”, dives, flips, Marco Polo. What I liked most of all though was to be in the water all by myself. I’d dive under and listen to my heart beating. I’d dance with my shadow on the bottom of the pool. I’d pretend I was a mermaid and glide about in the sunlit water.

Now when I think back on those endless sunfilled hours (and who ever heard of sunblock?), I can’t imagine where the little girl went. Like so many of my friends, I sometimes wonder if I’ve forgotten how to play. I spend far more time delighting in watching my 5 year old son play than playing myself. Although I derive a great deal of vicarious pleasure from his total absorption in his activities, I often regret that I seldom seem to allow myself that same freedom. My life has become so filled with my work as a mother, wife and therapist that I seem to have little time or energy left for the things I spent untold hours doing throughout my childhood.

I’m not sure exactly how or when the change took place. It must have been gradual. Where play used to come naturally to me, I find now that I have to exert a conscious effort to make the time and energy for it. Yet, I feel so much better when I do. Even something as simple as reading the comics in the morning makes a difference in the rest of my day. A week’s vacation is a highly treasured jewel.
Taking the time to play and have fun also makes a world of difference in my work. Even physically strenuous play leaves me refreshed and energetic. The more I play in my “free” time, the more my work feels like play. I feel more creative, insightful and courageous with my clients, and find it easier to pass along my positive feelings to them.

As for the little girl I was, she hasn’t disappeared completely. I can still see her in my mind’s eye, swimming about in the glittering water, as immersed in her play as she is in that pool. If I watch long enough though, she’ll pause momentarily, and tell me I can still dance with my shadow if I want to.