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.