(no subject)
the red crayon
she was four, and i was 21. i was staring out the window that night, watching sheets of raindrops fall ubiquitously. some seemed invisible, while the ones beneath the lamp posts looked like splintered thorns. then i felt someone tug my shirt. i looked down and saw a little girl with tears ready to fall from her eyes.
"i lost my red crayon. can you help me find it?"
"that's weird. i lost mine too."
she stared at me for a while with her drenched brown eyes and said, "maybe you can help me find mine, then i can help you find yours." she then took my hand and lead the way through a dark hallway. as i walked with her, she began to explain, "i was coloring pooh's shirt with it just a minute ago. then i went to the kitchen to get a glass of milk because i was thirsty. then i went back to my room and saw that my red crayon was no longer there. you see, i liked my red crayon. no, i loved it. that's why i don't understand why it had to be the one that's gone now. it was my favorite. and what about my black crayon? i hate it, it's so fat and ugly. it's just so black. howcome that's not the one that's lost?" she was stuttering now as she said these. her tears were getting in her way.
"you know, sometimes you have to be very careful. some things tend to get lost when you let them be even just for a little while."
"i know," she replied.
but i thought, no. she didn't know. she didn't have any idea at all.
we got to her room. i saw her crayons scattered around, and pictures of different cartoon characters lying on the floor as well. then i saw that one of pooh where his shirt was almost halfway done. i scanned the crayons again, looking for a red one. no luck. instinctively, i reached out my hand under her bed and grabbed hold of something. i clenched it in my fist and pulled my hand back. i opened my fist in front of her, and her face brightened up when she saw her red crayon on the palm of my hand. she took it and began to finish pooh's red shirt.
"...and most of the time, you don't have to look very far because they're just lying around somewhere. and when you get a hold of them again, it's as if they came right back to you and for you. and suddenly, the picture's complete again."
when she was finished, she smiled and looked at the picture like an artist who had just completed a decade's worth of masterwork. then she looked at me and smiled. "thanks," she said. "now, let's find your red crayon."
"no, that's okay. i've lost a lot of red crayons in my life, and they've been gone for far too long. i'll never find them again."
"but they still might come back. you said so yourself."
"i'll just be wasting both my time and yours if we still try to look for even just one. things that's been gone for years will no longer come back. they never do. then all you're left with are the black ones. and sometimes, they'd have to do. no matter how much you hate them, they'd just have to do."
i tried to hold back my tears. i didn't want her to see me crying. i pat her head gently on my way out of her room. i made my way through the dark hallway which seemed even darker now. then i opened a door and went outside. it was still raining -perhaps a little harder now. then i slowly walked into the darkness, and felt the splintered thorns pierce my skin.
she was four, and i was 21. i was staring out the window that night, watching sheets of raindrops fall ubiquitously. some seemed invisible, while the ones beneath the lamp posts looked like splintered thorns. then i felt someone tug my shirt. i looked down and saw a little girl with tears ready to fall from her eyes.
"i lost my red crayon. can you help me find it?"
"that's weird. i lost mine too."
she stared at me for a while with her drenched brown eyes and said, "maybe you can help me find mine, then i can help you find yours." she then took my hand and lead the way through a dark hallway. as i walked with her, she began to explain, "i was coloring pooh's shirt with it just a minute ago. then i went to the kitchen to get a glass of milk because i was thirsty. then i went back to my room and saw that my red crayon was no longer there. you see, i liked my red crayon. no, i loved it. that's why i don't understand why it had to be the one that's gone now. it was my favorite. and what about my black crayon? i hate it, it's so fat and ugly. it's just so black. howcome that's not the one that's lost?" she was stuttering now as she said these. her tears were getting in her way.
"you know, sometimes you have to be very careful. some things tend to get lost when you let them be even just for a little while."
"i know," she replied.
but i thought, no. she didn't know. she didn't have any idea at all.
we got to her room. i saw her crayons scattered around, and pictures of different cartoon characters lying on the floor as well. then i saw that one of pooh where his shirt was almost halfway done. i scanned the crayons again, looking for a red one. no luck. instinctively, i reached out my hand under her bed and grabbed hold of something. i clenched it in my fist and pulled my hand back. i opened my fist in front of her, and her face brightened up when she saw her red crayon on the palm of my hand. she took it and began to finish pooh's red shirt.
"...and most of the time, you don't have to look very far because they're just lying around somewhere. and when you get a hold of them again, it's as if they came right back to you and for you. and suddenly, the picture's complete again."
when she was finished, she smiled and looked at the picture like an artist who had just completed a decade's worth of masterwork. then she looked at me and smiled. "thanks," she said. "now, let's find your red crayon."
"no, that's okay. i've lost a lot of red crayons in my life, and they've been gone for far too long. i'll never find them again."
"but they still might come back. you said so yourself."
"i'll just be wasting both my time and yours if we still try to look for even just one. things that's been gone for years will no longer come back. they never do. then all you're left with are the black ones. and sometimes, they'd have to do. no matter how much you hate them, they'd just have to do."
i tried to hold back my tears. i didn't want her to see me crying. i pat her head gently on my way out of her room. i made my way through the dark hallway which seemed even darker now. then i opened a door and went outside. it was still raining -perhaps a little harder now. then i slowly walked into the darkness, and felt the splintered thorns pierce my skin.