Broken Pieces

When I was a little girl, every last month of the year, I was thought to sit quietly in my room and write a list of what I like to be given as a gift, that will make me a better person in the year ahead. It could have taken me days to do my list, as everything written was supposed to justify my parents spenditure. If I haven’t have made a good case for some gifts, they would have fallen off the list immediately.

For most of the gifts I needed to fight my case in order to get them. Although, some gifts I have received on an emotional basis, I have been given some simply because they were practical. However, the fact of the matter is that I was getting away with most of my wishes; winter holidays, youth camps, swimming lessons, driving lessons, cookery, pottery and massage courses, toys and later on, electronic gadgets and computers.

So, after leaving my parents home, things have changed. Rather then thinking and buying gifts that will improve my skills and talents, it was the case of buying gifts that will impress others, will surprise them and make others happy. So, what happened to the little girl inside me? Did she forget who she really is? Doesn’t she have any more wishes just for her? Has she lost the will to achieve, to progress and develop further?

Another end of the year is approaching. I am sitting quietly in my house, listening to the silence around me. Although holding a pen my thoughts are dwelling in the past, listing through the catalogue of disastrous events that have happened this year. And what should I say? Shall I be glad that this year is tailing off, leaving behind broken pieces that can never be reconstructed or should I say I am glad that the new year is approaching?

What was so mystical about 2011 that every event turned out wrongly? And all the events around me were worst then ever before. What sort of energy field we were living in?

Let’s just tap inside and try to awaken the little girl inside me. She was much more fun to be with, free spirit and maker of her own destiny. Let me see if she likes to come out and face the reality as it is, at this stage in my life. Let me see what she will say how I have progressed and where I have ended up. Will she be proud, will she be crying and be sad, or will she be happy to take charge all over again? Who knows…

Future is not ours to see, que sera, sera….M