Friday, October 15, 2010
The things hidden in our pockets.
There's a hole in my jeans. It was made for storing things and so I’ve used it for that. This pocket isn't stuffed with electronic devices or a pack of gum. Instead you’ll find amidst a few stray coins, a spirited and vivacious little girl. She has set up for herself a camp, a temporary shelter held together by buttons and stitches. Inside it are a hammock, a night-light, pieces of paper, colored pens and a book. Being cooped up in a pocket doesn’t necessarily give you space for anything else. She’s only ever had the essentials. Which in reality, is all she’ll ever need.
She believes in worlds that don’t exist. She defends the doctrine of infinite possibilities and lives it out like a martyr. 21 years inside a pocket is enough to drive a person mad but she disregarded this, conquered the cramps and lived an even more fearless life than I have. She’s seen the world and saved it more than 30 times. She’s become a wizard and an elf, a princess and an assassin. She’s seen Antarctica and found Atlantis. She’s fought for countries and died for love. She’s circled the globe and lived life exuberantly in her mind.
At times when she'd get tired of sitting and thinking she would slowly tug at my belt and beg me to see daylight. I would pat her head and tell her “soon”. I guess I was never good at keeping promises because until today she sits there, dreaming the dreams she’s dreamed for years. Waiting for that whimsical day when her dreams would take flight.
Today was no different as I sat on a chair and stared blankly into space. She took advantage of the solitude, slowly peeked out and tugged at the seams. Without looking, I reached down to pat her head, heaved a deep sigh and with my voice betraying a hint of sadness, quietly let out the word “soon”.
We all have big dreams buried in the pockets of our worn out jeans, dying to come out.
In Tolkien's words, not all those who wander are lost.