It started when a young boy often visited his friend next door, and they would play together with their small toys. Their sisters would join the fun-tivity, pillows would be thrown everywhere, and the house turned upside down.
Sometimes, the other kids in the neighborhood were invited to run around the compound, and each would bring whatever they had to play with. Some would make stick drawings, while others had their way with the mud, making tiny pottery that seemed silly. They would all laugh or cry over paints and crayons, smearing their clothes and bodies.
Marvin was exceptionally creative. He could make bold drawings on scrap paper, uniquely recolor his picture books, and was the boy who started it all. So, when the neighborhood children decided to form a fun club and expand their cheap thrills, they made him their president.
The children’s parents permitted them to get together at the playground every weekend and do their stuff. They were glad that the children had fun and learned together, while their homes were clean and quiet.
There, every child had the opportunity to represent their dreams by creating stuff from spoiled tires or other discarded objects. Someday, they wanted to be health workers, great teachers, or own automobiles or aircraft or ships.
Marvin, amidst other things, dreamed of cycling. One day, as his birthday approached, his parents asked him what he wanted. “Well, let’s start with actualizing one of my dreams, shall we,” he replied with gusto.
After pouting his lips and joining his palms together in a plea, he declared, grinning like a Cheshire cat, “Kindly buy me a bicycle!”
View Comments (2)
Thank you, Ay, for writing, just freely churning out these words to the world.
Ay, thank you for writing. Thank you for thriving, steadily self-learning and continually churning out stories, topics and issues that matter to the world through your words.
The process isn't not easy, but it's worth it.