I used to know an old lady. She lived in a simple but happy home. The house smelled of memories from around the world and cookies. Her husband, was a quiet man. He liked to draw and listen to music. In her house, I never knew which was true, and which was dream.
I would sit with the old lady, with a cup of tea, as she shared her stories.
Here is one of the stories she told one day…
A very long time ago…
There was a curious little girl.
The little girl wanted to find ideals, believe in something, find truths, join a cult or another, believe in politics, or at least in football. Just to believe in something. But really, she believed in everything.
She wanted to pierce life’s mystery, to take a look behind the veil of reality. So she prayed, burned incens, recited mantras. Once arrived in the sky kingdom, she spoke with angels, gods and demons. So, together, they burned incens, recited mantras and prayed for the army of men that decorate ether’s kingdom.
The child wanted to find countries where only peace and happiness existed. So she travelled to Shambhala and swam with the star fish of lost kingdoms. But really, all she found was men and women just like you and me. Each with their doubts, desires, fears and courage.
She would have liked to be an actress, but even her own role she could not take seriously. Life passed as a movie in front of her child’s eyes. Sometimes, for a second, she even believed in her own role. Until all the roles melted in winter crystals.
The more she discovered about life, the more she realized that she knew nothing. Because really, there was nothing to know. She believed in everything, she believed in nothing.
The child, as any child, was all love. So, she loved the men and women that crossed her path.
The little girl met a man. The man accepted her as she was. He understood her doubts, her desirs, her fears and her courage. She accepted his doubts, his desires, his fears and his courage. They married and lived a happy life.
The girl became a woman. She wanted some things to remain, so she carved them on paper, for the wave of time to carry the paper to the top of the mountains. So that one day, they would arrive to the ocean.
The woman became an old lady. And she died, surrounded by those she loved and that loved her. She went like a quiet flower, happy to have shared so much happiness.
One day, a fish ate a piece of paper. The same day, the fish got caught by a fisherman, who sold him at the market place. A young mother bought it and cooked a nice fish soup.
A few months later, a little girl was born.
This was a curious little girl.
The little girl wanted to find ideals, believe in something, find truths, join a cult or another, believe in politics, or at least in football. Just to believe in something.
But really, she believed in everything...
The old lady went back looking at the drops of water on the window. I said « thank you for the cup of tea ». And « good bye, see you next time » to her husband who was busy carving on a long piece of wood.
Walking back to town, I recalled words my mam used to tell me « in every story, there is a bit of truth. »
I wander who is that little girl…
For you.
Photos from Gokarna, India.
Story in french here.
I've been enjoying writing little stories. Maybe one day I'll be able to read them to my own kids, until then, I hope that those with children can enjoy them with the kids of the family
2 other children stories here:
http://www.fuzzytravel.com/manue/12092-man-woman.html
