Letting Go.

Recent psychological studies state that children from the ages of 5-8 often have imaginary friends. Growing up, I never had an imaginary friend. I didn't need one, because my imagination was overactive enough that it provided its own means of daily entertainment. I had my own little corner though- there was my rainbows and hearts red-lined plastic table, scratched with random crayon marks and cartoon stickers, and then there was my widely coveted collection of bouncy balls from supermarkets all around the Houston area. I also collected Number Two pencils- not your average gold ones with pink erasers though- I had glittery, sparkly number two pencils, Bang Bears green and gold striped pencils, Snoopy Valentines Day pencils, you name it, I probably had it. Yes, some may call me a dork, and yes, I admit that I was a dork. One example of my complete dorkiness can be found in my fourth grade pictures, where I am at THE height of chic- elastic faded white denim shorts that hang just above my knees, paired with a turquoise t-shirt tucked snugly in. And to top it all off, a Care Bears band-aid placed strategically on my knee in order to properly capture the eye of the camera- even though there was no real NEED for the band-aid, it served as a personal fashion accessory in my fashion ensemble that completed my unique "look".

Since the sophisticated and fashion-savvy days of my elementary school youth, I have grown into someone who has learned to let go, because growing up is really about letting go. The term, "letting go" implies that there is something tangible to hold onto to begin with, but in many circumstances, at least for me, it wasn't so much about letting go of something that I once had a firm hold on, it was more about shutting off parts of my imagination, dimming the lights on certain dreams, learning how to stand up alone without the outreached hands of others. This is not to say, of course, that my process of letting go has always been efficient. There are some things that I have still not been able to say goodbye to, or pack away in the reaches of Memory. I still have my bouncy ball collection- it's in a brightly colored blue tin with tropical fish on the cover, stored in the cabinet of my room along with my middle school diaries and sticker collections. I hardly ever open that cabinet, but knowing that those things are there provides me an inexplicable comfort, the comfort of knowing that there are some things we don't have to let go of.

But then there are other things, other people, other memories, that we must let go of, because life doesn't always come with choices. There are some days when I wake up, look out the window, and a particular shade of sunlight, a shadow of an elm tree, or a dangling raindrop reminds me of a time from echoes past. It's only during these times that I remember how hard it is to let go, to not look back, to walk with confidence and steadiness in one direction.

Disheartening as the notion may sound, it's probably impossible to ever completely let go. There will be unexpected e-mails, spontaneous phone calls, and faded photographs, and the whispers that accompany these things will always remain in the recesses of our thought, whether we choose to keep them there or not. The important thing is to only indulge in these fragments of past for only a few moments, and then to open our eyes and remember that even if the heart cannot always let go, the mind can. And that, at least, has to be enough.



by christine at 11:25 AM ©

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Wednesday, January 21, 2004