Friday, October 31, 2008

The World on My Back

On the first day of school, Corban’s backpack was stuffed with shiny and unopened supplies he’d need for the new school year. He had not only the functional things—pencils, markers, crayons, glue sticks, scissors (which he’d broken in by giving himself a haircut a couple of days earlier)—but a snack, a juice box, an extra pair of underwear, a card with his identification card about where he was from, as well as a card with his destination, where he was going. He even had a new Webkinz in his pack for show-and-tell. All of this was strapped to his back. When you’re six, these are the things that matter. When you’re six, this is your whole world. When you’re six, this is all you need.

I’d like to carry a backpack with me. It could hold my functional things, sure, but how much sweeter would life be with my favorite snack, a good book, a special treasure to show-and-tell my friends? And you never know when an extra pair of underwear will come in handy! With a well-stocked backpack, I’d be prepared for whatever life threw at me. There have been times I could have really used an identification card to remind me of who I am and where I’m from. If I got lost, someone could head me back in the right direction. Better yet, I’d like a card with information on it about my destination, where I am going, as a reminder to myself. In real life these things aren’t always so easily spelled out. Strapped into my backpack, I’d have my world on my back. My world on my back? In the end, I think I’d rather have my world in my arms, something I really only feel when I hug my children.

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