My sweaty and shaking fingers held so tightly onto the
paper, I thought it might break and buckle underneath my grip.
My father’s quick nod gave me the kind of approval and push
forward I needed.
“And,” I breathed, “I appreciate everyone who helped me get
to this point in...” my voice trailed off. I gulped. “My life,” I finally
choked out.
Looking out into the crowd, I had their attention. Every
person was looking at me. It was all about ME. It was MY moment. It was my time. I was leaving home, and
it was time to grow up.
It was that very moment I turned to look at my horse in the
pasture behind everyone. Slowly, people turned as I walked through the parted
crowd.
I was walking, and then I began to run. I ran so fast I
thought I might trip, but I didn’t. I ran into the pasture and flung my arms
around my horse’s neck and fought back tears. Startled at first, he slowly
lowered his head and let out a long breath.
I felt my mother’s hand on my back and let the tears begin
to fall. I sobbed and she said, “Just because you’re leaving home, that doesn’t
mean you leave everything you love forever; it’s just part of growing up.”
But I knew I could come back. I knew it wasn’t a long drive
to come visit. I was only worried about becoming like everyone else. I was
worried about becoming just another face in the crowd of 45 thousand students.
Like Breton in Nadja, I, too, wanted
to “strive to discover the nature.. the difference from them.”
I wanted to make sure that what I have loved forever
remained a part of me on my long journey of self-discovery. The peacefulness I
longed for, and held onto so tightly, would forever remain in that grassy
pasture.
http://eveningswiththeunknown.blogspot.com/
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