I was sitting in a van on the way to celebrate my aunt's birthday and I noticed the tall pine trees with their green leaves at the top and I immediately thought about bamboo trees and how much I want to go to Thailand and see the bamboo forests. And how I want to go back to the Gothic quarter of Barcelona and lose myself in the tiny, slightly spooky, streets. How I want to compare the sand on the beaches in Egypt, Croatia, Chile, and Australia. I just want to go. But I have no money-even less since I backed my car into my uncle's camper. I can't help but want to go and meet people. To look into somebody else's big brown eyes and say, "I understand you." I want to study the life of a deli owner in New Jersey-ask him what his favourite cut is and what he thinks about God. I just want the chance to ask the dancers in the Russian Ballet academy which they would choose if they either had to inherit a) arthritis or b) a permanent 20 pound weight gain, and if they could love themselves with either. I want to hear the dreams of the girls in Kenya who carry water on their heads for as much as six hours as day, eliminating their chance at an education. And I want to see the bamboo trees.
Will I ever? I'm not sure. But a dream is a precious thing.
No comments:
Post a Comment