This evening, I was brought back to a gentler time and a sweeter place that I often long to revisit. A time when the sound of crickets and soft lapping waves lulled me to sleep every night, and in the mornings, I'd be awakened by the calling of sweet song birds. Barely awake, I'd jump out of bed, and while still in my pajamas, and without even stopping to put on my shoes, I'd run barefoot out of the house and cross the road. Without slowing down I continued running full speed onto the beach all the way almost to the water’s edge. I was anxious to see if any of my make shift crab traps had caught anything the night before. To my amazement, and my mother’s horror, I would often arrive at breakfast with a bucketful of live crabs.
On nights like tonight, when I was restless or worried and thinking too much about all the unknown's in my life, I'd slowly walk across that same road to the beach, picking up a few wild flowers along the way, hoping that in my hand I’d have the right flower that would divine and secure my happy future.
I would usually sit in the same spot of sand, leaning my back on a low coconut tree that had grown sideways and in which someone had conveniently carved out a back rest. As I sat there, taking in the flower’s features, I'd pray to God in the sky for my heart's deepest desire to come true, and for a sign to somehow tell me to be patient for it was so. I'd sit there for what seemed like an eternity in a meditative trance, hoping that by staring at the flower I could pick the right moment for my destiny to unfold. I was afraid that one impetuous move or premature moment might wreak havoc with the rest of my life. At twelve, my future years loomed over me like a huge gray wall of water just waiting for the right moment to crash over me and begin the unbearably long sentence of living a life of discontented quietness and unfulfilled dreams that those around me seemed to live.
So I'’d sit and wait for the right time... the right moment to begin. Then, and only when I felt it was the right, divine moment, did my sweaty trembling hands begin the rituals as I whispered to God:
“Il m'aime... un peu, beaucoup, passionnément, a la folie, pas du tout” (He loves me... a little, a lot, passionately, madly,or not at all.) If I was successful during the first flower I’d stop then and there having achieved the fate I had wanted. If I didn’'t I'’d move on the next flower, holding it interminably longer than the first, all in an effort to manipulate the desired outcome.
On nights like tonight, when I was restless or worried and thinking too much about all the unknown's in my life, I'd slowly walk across that same road to the beach, picking up a few wild flowers along the way, hoping that in my hand I’d have the right flower that would divine and secure my happy future.
I would usually sit in the same spot of sand, leaning my back on a low coconut tree that had grown sideways and in which someone had conveniently carved out a back rest. As I sat there, taking in the flower’s features, I'd pray to God in the sky for my heart's deepest desire to come true, and for a sign to somehow tell me to be patient for it was so. I'd sit there for what seemed like an eternity in a meditative trance, hoping that by staring at the flower I could pick the right moment for my destiny to unfold. I was afraid that one impetuous move or premature moment might wreak havoc with the rest of my life. At twelve, my future years loomed over me like a huge gray wall of water just waiting for the right moment to crash over me and begin the unbearably long sentence of living a life of discontented quietness and unfulfilled dreams that those around me seemed to live.
So I'’d sit and wait for the right time... the right moment to begin. Then, and only when I felt it was the right, divine moment, did my sweaty trembling hands begin the rituals as I whispered to God:
“Il m'aime... un peu, beaucoup, passionnément, a la folie, pas du tout” (He loves me... a little, a lot, passionately, madly,or not at all.) If I was successful during the first flower I’d stop then and there having achieved the fate I had wanted. If I didn’'t I'’d move on the next flower, holding it interminably longer than the first, all in an effort to manipulate the desired outcome.
