Written 7-31-2013
Ever since I was young, I had this fascination -- more like
an obsession -- about one day being about to touch the ceiling. The thing that
got to me most about this "top" wall, is how it got up there. Now
obviously as I got older, I learned that there was no real magic to ceilings,
and it was just accepted that they're supposed to be there.
The fascination never
left, though.
So, for a while, I would just lie on the floor of my room
and stare, for what seemed like hours, at this indoor sky. My attention was
held so tightly, and the thoughts that ran through my mind were so far beyond
anything I had ever thought about up until that point, and each and every
passing thought had to do with this simple, everyday slate that hangs above the
indoor population.
Eventually, I began to think about the future, and how cool
it would be. There would be flying cars, and moving sidewalks, and I would
finally be tall enough to touch that big indoor sky. I always thought that it
would be the coolest thing if I could just touch it, even if I could only do so
once.
At the ripe old age of 8, I stood up and stretched my arms
up as high as they could go, but no luck. I was no where near tall enough to
touch this space, not even if I stand on the tips of my toes. So I sat down on
my bed, and started to brainstorm about all the ways I could get to the ceiling
without any help. This went on for a day or two, and then I gave up for the
time being.
A few days went by, and I didn't think much about that huge
thing hanging over my head. I woke up, went to school, came home, ate dinner,
went to bed, repeat.
Then one day at school, the teacher was asking the class
what they wanted to be when they grew up, and when she got to me, I only said
three words...
"I don't
know."
After making that statement, she walked over to my desk and
crouched down, and to be honest, I thought I was in trouble for not having my
entire life plan in order at that point. But instead of telling my to think
about it and that she would come back to me, she told me something that would
stick with me. She smiled, and said, "A lot of kids don't know what they
want to do, and it's good that you don't, in a way. When you do decide it's
time to pick a path in life, just remember that the sky's the limit!"
Then, she stood back up and walked back to the front of the classroom, where
she continued with the lesson.
For the rest of the day, I thought about her words, and when
I got home, I looked up and quietly said to myself, "the sky's the
limit". I giggled softly as I ran up to my room, to lie on the floor like
I had done since this interest sparked.
I laid there for about an hour or so before I decided that I
needed to stop reaching for this indoor sky, and just wait for myself to grow
so I could touch it. I didn't want to be able to reach it at that point,
because even though I was young, I realized that I was too young to reach my
limit. So, instead of trying to run my fingers across the ceiling, I would
stare at it, and wonder what it had in store for me. I would sleep on the
floor, and pretend I was sleeping under a [not so] starry sky.
About 10 years later, I am sitting here typing about this
short period of time in my life, as I glance up at the ceiling for inspiration,
and I still sleep on the floor and pretend to be camping out. But the one thing
that makes me truly happy is that even though I'm an adult now, I still cannot
touch the ceiling, nor do I want to. I want to know that the skies the limit,
and that there is a good foot between the tips of my fingers, and the sky
that's inside.
I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, but I
still have time, and as long as there is space between my hands and the sky, I
will always know what my limit is.
