When I was eight or nine I had a bit of a problem talking to my classmates. In fact one person thought I didn't speak English for more than a month. I used to do this thing where I drew faces on the bottom of my toes. It was my way I guess of replying to the other kids when they made fum of me, even though I said nothing. I could just tip one of my feet up slightly in their direction, and there hidden under my sock was a very angry faced toe person. It's silly, and why I choose to talk about it 20 years later is probably in itself odd, but oh well. Last night I was sitting and watching the worst movie ever, well at least last night it was, and I decided to draw a happy face on the bottom of one of my toes. Then I drew an equally crude sad face on the other. The night was long and emotionally draining. And starting today at 4:30 a.m. wasn't really what I had planned. So today when I walked in to the kitchen, bleary eyed and wanting to cry, I didn't even look at my floor. But after I got back from my daily walk to the store, tears streaming in the rain, I was looking down. Wouldn't you know it, my little happy faced drawing was stamped all over my kitchen floor. It made me smile despite myself. Right there in the middle of swearing off friendship forever, cursing the wretched rain, and graying my hair with money woes, was something to smile at. Something trivial and childish, but it brightened my day, even if just a little.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
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Each one of us has his own way lifting his spirit, albeit in a childish way. Come to think of it, despite the added weight, wrinkles, or graying hair; deep down inside we remain this little child who needs to be comforted, cared for, and loved. We may have grown older and wiser through the years, yet we can't deny the truth that we are hardly any different from the needy child we once were. We may not cry out easily, but we are just as vulnerable nevertheless.
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