That young girl seated on the windowsill
many years ago created a dreamer in me. As I struggled for words to encapsulate
my grieving heart, I was lost in trance dreaming of the world of words. A place
that would bring me with endless choice of words.
Many years after, I remained a dreamer.
Though I no longer struggled for words, the brokenness lingered. However, the
bottled up emotions are poured into the world of words. The gift that I will
always treasure. It did not mend my wounded little heart, but it did help me to
express what pained me lest I will be asphyxiated by grief. It became my pillow
of comfort as I continued to dream of a better world.
Change. The
only word that remains constant in this revolution of transformation. The only
word which helped me accept things as they are. Strange as it may seem, things
are basically the same. But, now, I am more into cherishing good memories than
wallowing into pity with bitter experiences. I feel like after being a dreamer,
I am now a bucket being filled generously with memories.
My experiences as a teacher remind me
everyday that I can’t remain a dreamer forever. The world is a lovely place
filled with memories. They are beautifully woven together and they are right on
my place of work- school.
Thus, as I journey thru life, my bucket of memories will no longer be
confined in dreams but in memories that will be brought into reality through
the power of words and by INSPIRATION.
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