Troubles of a 4 year old
She had a wing,
To which she would cling;
When time wasn’t right,
Or when god couldn’t write.
A happy face was what others saw,
She couldn’t bear to live against the law
Of showing that she wasn’t hurt
When in reality her tears would spurt,
At some time alone she would lie,
And herself to sleep she would cry.
The sky looked sad and our lover boy, the sun was trying to steal a few glances at his love who we all know as our dear earth. However, the dominating clouds, behaving like an overprotective father were not allowing the sun to take a peek. The earth unaware of the battle between her lover and her dad was busy playing with the wind. The cool november breeze filled the silence on that wintry day. I was but a small child going to school holding onto my mother’s hand like she was the anchor that would protect my ship on a stormy day. It was my first day of school. I had been a few days late because of my fever and still was not ready to face an unfamiliar and strange world. How was I to survive in such a place, I did not know. We entered the building and my eyes wandered, scrutinizing the area when they came to rest on a girl sitting all by herself on a swing moving in swift motion with tears moistening her face. The sight was enough to give me confidence. Looking at her ensured that I would not be left without friends. As a four year old, I really had the concerns of an adult. My mother broke our hand contact signalling me to go inside. She kissed me goodbye and walked through the door. My feet took me to the swing where the girl was sat and I knelt in front of her. Me and my childish gestures.
“I am Robin Warner”
I said with a hint of hope in my eyes. I hoped that she would not run away from me and she didn’t. As they say, hope is what builds this earth. I guess the statement held its true meaning in that situation seventeen years back.
“Jane Donovan” she muttered through her sobs.
Till date, I am astounded by the fact that our introduction was more like a business meeting of adults than four year olds getting to know each other.
“Who are you?” she had said with a look of confusion gripping her face. It was amusing to see the transition in her. One moment, she was crying and the next she was inquisitive about my existence. I was proud of myself for bringing out that transition.
“I am someone you won’t ever forget” was my answer. It was surprising how I had never spoken to anyone outside my family but my tongue seemed to have its own mind talking to her.
“You think so?”
“I know so”
“Are you fine?” I asked when she didn’t utter anything in return to my previous statement.
“No, I am not fine”
At that moment, I swear, I was impressed by her honesty.
“Would you like to share?”
I left her then and she didn’t call after me. Somehow, it didn’t trouble me the way it should have. After all, she was my first real friend. Probably because I understood that she was not in the state of sharing her problems or maybe because I knew that sooner or later, she would have to explain the reason of her crying.
Our first meeting was not what people would describe as amazing but they are people, they do not know how it was so much more to me than just amazing. I was intrigued by her. She was beautiful. At such an early age I had established that she was the reason god created me. But now, I know it was nothing but a sense of responsibility I felt towards her. Maybe, it was love. Who knows?? I was a four year old. What do you expect from someone that young. She would never love me the way I did during the early years of our friendship, so I gave up. I realized that a broken person can only love someone who is as broken as him. Someday, she is going to find someone who carries similar grief in his heart and both of them will then embark upon the journey of healing each other which will end their eternal sadness. All I want is to see her smile, if you call that love; then maybe I am in love.