He erased the line for the 5 th time and thought again of another fitting sentence. I looked at his notebook with patience. He needed time to figure out what he needs to say , the way he needs to say it. I was just supporting him with help if he felt he needed any. I could see the fingers twitching and shaking the pencil as though it was dancing to a tune in his head. My mind went to the eraser nearby and though how much fun it would be if they were all starring in a motion picture musical and dancing and talking to one another and in the process save the world . No, wait a minute that is pixar’s next movie.
I saw his hands moving slowly completing two words and the pencil touching his forehead, in deep thought obviously verifying if the words made sense and if he should continue with his sentence. I saw the tiny little pieces of paper that the eraser takes with it and the pieces flying away when she saw him blowing hard at them.
As much as a part of me wanted to help me complete the sentence, I held myself against it. It is his work, his thought. After waging a war with his mind, he finally seemed to have conquered it and finished his story for the creating writing competition that was an annual ritual in his school. This was his second year in participating.
His beautiful little 6 year old eyes looked at me as though looking for appreciation. I was fraught with pride with his essay , the richness of it. I looked at him and wanted to say ” It is the decisions that make you who you are son. Even if it is a sentence,a word,a letter. It is the swaying that defines you, the battles you fight to make a choice. No choice is easy. No battlefield is a cakewalk. Every fork in life leaves you with tough decisions to make. Every one of them is hard, and you write and erase your way through it. The harder you fight, a greater mark you leave. The mark tells you of the tough times you had making a decision. The mark makes you wonder what would have happened if you had not left a mark, if you had proceeded with the previous decision. something you will never know. Try not to leave a mark or tear a paper cause those might always come back to haunt you of the road you did not take.
There is nothing worse than wondering what could have been.
I spared him my thoughts and saved it for another 10 years and said
“That is a beautiful essay sweetheart. Go along now and play with your friends.”
P.S : My 50th Post. Yay