I Want to Be a Kid Again
- Luvv A Sanwal
- Aug 20, 2025
- 3 min read
Updated: Sep 3, 2025
A nostalgic short story
This touching short story is a nostalgic piece of flash fiction about childhood innocence, adulthood struggles, and the longing to go back in time. A heartwarming nostalgia short story for readers who miss the magic of being a kid.
When Aarush was nine, all he wanted was to be sixteen.
Because sixteen meant freedom. No more school uniforms. No more bedtime at nine. No more asking for chocolate at the grocery store. Sixteen meant skateboards, phones, and finally watching movies his mom called "too grown-up."
He'd sit at the balcony, arms crossed, watching his dad go to work and think, “Man, adults have it so good.”
No exams. No homework. Ice cream when they want. Staying up as long as they like.
They didn’t have to ask for permission just to stay over at a friend’s house.
He imagined adulthood as one big Sunday.
He’d wear cool clothes, drive a car, live alone in a big apartment with no one to tell him to clean his room. He’d play video games till 2 a.m., eat pizza for breakfast, and buy all the toys he wasn’t allowed to have.
He’d whisper to the sky one night, “Please, just make me grow up faster.”
that night, sky listened. He blinked, and suddenly he was twenty-eight.
He had the phone, the apartment, the late nights.
But he also had alarm clocks that screamed louder than dreams.
He had taxes, bills, rent, unread emails.
A fridge filled with Tupperware and takeout guilt.
The toy cars had turned into EMIs.
The late-night video games had become late-night work calls.
The independence he longed for now felt like loneliness in disguise.
He lived alone now.. just like he’d once dreamed. But the silence in the apartment didn’t feel like peace. It felt like absence. Of laughter. Of home-cooked meals. Of someone waiting in the other room.
Pizza for breakfast now came with a side of antacids.
And dreams... they didn’t visit much anymore.
He sat at his work desk, a spreadsheet glowing on the screen, and stared blankly at a calendar packed with meetings, rent due dates, and "catch up soon?" messages that never turned into plans. And a job that paid more in stress than salary.
He hadn’t seen a sunrise just for the joy of it in years.
One evening, after scrolling through hundreds of smiling faces that looked happy but felt hollow, he stepped out to the balcony again. Same spot. Same arms folded. But not the same boy. This time, he didn’t wish to grow up. This time, he whispered into the breeze: “Please… I just want to be nine again.”
He wanted to run through puddles without checking the time.
Wanted his mom to comb his hair and scold him for running barefoot.
Wanted to cry without a reason and laugh without one too.
Wanted summer holidays, paper boats...
The breeze on a cycle ride down a slope.
The smell of crayons.
The squeak of wet shoes on school corridors.
Racing with the rain.
The glow of birthday balloons taped to the wall.
Dozing off in the backseat of his dad’s car, pretending to be asleep so he’d be carried inside.
He missed the joy of the school bell ringing for recess, how everything else paused, just for fun. He missed how Maggi felt like a celebration. How a scraped knee was a battle wound, and a Band-Aid was a badge of honor.
He missed the magic of firsts - the first kite that flew, the first lost tooth, the first time his dad said, “You did well, champ.” Because no one says that anymore.
Now it was just deadlines, unread messages, and pretending to be okay.
He whispered, not with hope, but with longing:
“I want to be kid again…”
“I’ll hold my mother’s hand again while crossing the street.”
“I’ll cry over broken toys and not broken trust.”
“I’ll nap after cartoons, not after burnout.”
Next morning, the alarm didn’t ring. He ran to the mirror.
Tiny fingers. Messy hair. A missing front tooth.
He didn’t scream. He just smiled.
Short Story | Flash Fiction | Nostalgia | Childhood | Life Lessons | Storytelling | Best Short Stories | Stories Online | Luvv It Stories
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