As the years have passed, the joys of childhood have faded. Some quickly passed. Others slowly went, lingering into adulthood. Then at some point, the weight of being an adult seems to crush everything that once brought a carefree smile to our lips. What were those passing childhood pleasures? Can we even remember them? I admit, I cannot remember many. What I do remember are the sweet joy and safety of putting my head on my mother's shoulder, long summer sunsets and evenings where the air was thick with the laziness of youth and the possibilities of the Fall, rainy days and nights with thunder, long conversations with friends we had time to devote to, and music. Many of those pleasures cannot be recreated. My mother is gone. I work long hours so there is no laziness to enjoy. No time for summer or rain. There are just tasks to do; things and people to take care of. And between work and keeping all the things going in my personal life, it's hard to find those undivided hours to devote to nurturing friendships, and to find others who have that same time. But there remains music. I thought I had lost it, too. I thought it for many years. It happened after I, for the first time in forever, did not buy tickets to a concert. It wasn't any concert. It was my all time favorite rock group - U2. I always went to U2 concerts. Always since I was a teenager. But several years ago, I stopped when the ticket prices went through the roof and I could not justify it to my adult self. From that moment, slowly, the volume of music in my life decreased until there was only silence. Silence and adult worries and work. You could say it was a grim silence. About a year ago I tried to revive the music when I got an iPhone. I downloaded. When I found Pandora, I resolved to listen to it often. I tried. But the iPhone speakers are small, and I never got around to buying a docking station with speakers so that I could listen through larger speakers. I saw various speakers when I went shopping or online, but my adult self could not justify buying them when I could think of one hundred more sensible things to buy. "It's not so important", I told myself. I told myself that over and over until tonight. Tonight, I bought the speakers. Then I came home, plugged them in, put in my iPhone, cranked up the volume, and danced around the living room. It was, a lost pleasure, found. It brought memory of that wonderful sweetness of my mother's embrace, of long summer days and nights, of possibilities in the crisp Fall air, of enjoying the moment free of adult worries and work, of...childhood. All of these years we deny ourselves. We age and we assume these burdens. We lose our hobbies, our interests, small parts of our personalities, small parts of our very souls. Lost. But how easily it is all regained with just a little attention, a little remembrance. Suddenly, it is all found.