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Own writings

The Orange story

This event happened to me the day I was 2 years, 1 month, and 1 week old, and is my earliest memory.

We were in the town, because my mother had been about to give birth, and she had felt safer by staying there for the last few days. The day before she had a baby boy, so on the next day, the Sunday, I went with my father to visit her at the clinic. The first snow had fallen during the night, 10 cm of new, light, snow. It was beautiful weather, clear and cold, and also with the sunlight, that lives in everything it shines on.

It was at the time that children were not allowed to go into baby clinics, so my father and mother decided that we should go around to the back of the building where her room was, so that she was able to talk to us through the window. I remember I was so happy that day, I felt almost in heaven, because I had my father holding my hand, it was sun and snow, and everything was totally quiet. I was wearing this beautiful, light pink, fluffy winter coat that I was very proud of. I felt almost like a little angel!

We reached where my motherís room was, but the stupid thing was, that there was a road going very close to it, with some bushes by the wall of the building. So to talk to her, we had to stay on the car parking area on the other side of the road! Well, it was OK, my mother came to the window, and we spoke, and it was good to see her. After a while she asked me if I wanted an orange, and I said ďyes pleaseĒ. So she threw it out of the window across the road to me. Unfortunately she didnít throw it far enough, so the orange fell in the middle of the road. Of course, right†at the same time,†a car came along and drove right over it. I started to cry... and I cried heavily...

My parents tried to comfort me, my mother said that I didnít have to cry, because she had another one... but it didnít help anything. I still cried, and said ďI donít want another one... I wanted that one... the one the car ruinedĒ.†It was difficult for them to understand me, but they thought of course, that I was crying for not having an orange. That was wrong.

What they didnít understand was, I didnít cry for my own sake... I didnít cry because I didnít get an orange for myself...†if so,†another orange would have made everything ok again. No, I was crying because of my mother, for her gift that she had decided she wanted to give to me. But the gift didnít reach me.....

A gift is supposed to reach the receiver, which is the happiness in giving. And the orange I should have had was filled with this power of giving. The new one would only have been a replacement, and I didnít want a replacement, as it can never have the same value as the original. Thatís why I cried...

Can you imagine a little child of only 2 years old thinking like this? Since I remember this so clearly, and can still recall the deep feelings that I had, I know that children donít always think as we may expect them to do. They donít always think straightforward simple easy thoughts. They may be far more philosophic or deeper then anyone can imagine... :-)

-own writings-

© AriZonaMoon 2008