How this, grandmother, helped preserved the dreams of her young granddaughter’s childhood memories, by allowing her to stash the items she’d sent through the crack in the door to her room, translated…
After I was done with the chores, I’d shut my bedroom door, so I can, lean against the chair, to read the articles of the writer, Xi, then, the rustling noises had come in, distracted me, turned out, it was, a page of the calendar that’s, made its way in, from the crack in my door, it was, dancing in the wind. I can’t help but smiled, picked it up, and, set it down where it originally was.
My young granddaughter who’s about to enter into the first grade, is a chatty little thing, chimed all day long, begged the adults to answer her inquiries of “Why”, and she could, always, BREAK the bottom line of our, patience, and, my door shut meant my declarations of, “Do NOT Disturb”, and yet, kids will be, kids, the adults’ rules, they would, always, try to, break them, and, glad that they’d done it.
The young child didn’t have her own space, and the toy bins had been, stuffed too full, and, she’d, set her mind, on using some of my, closet space for storage. Everything her parents wouldn’t allow her to keep, she’d, shoved them into my space, especially those before-school exam papers, the torn off calendar pages, the ads from McDonald’s……basically anything with the blank page on the back, she’d loved, because, she’d enjoyed doodling, and, as she’d finished drawing on the page, she’d, made them into a volume too. All these things considered as garbage by us, she’d, cherished them like they were, some, priceless, possessions, and I can only, be more, tolerant of that.
The young child had, tried stashing her cherished items here and there, and, the three-centimeter crack on my door, became, a secret transport portal: the childish doodles and drawings, her favorite snacks, the Barbie with the broken leg, the sticker she received for her doctors’ visits, anything, you can name. seeing that page of torn off calendar that’s entering into the crack of my door, I can’t help but sighed, that there’s only, a very short period of time when the childhood dreams stayed, intact, because, there’s signs of maturation of her in her eyes, every day now.
This is the realizations of an adult, noting just how, precious childhood is, that once it’s gone, it’ll be, gone for good, and, this young girl has a perfect “secret hiding place” for all the things she cherished and held dear to her heart and her mind, in her, grandmother’s, room, through that, “secret portal”: the tiny crack on the door!