Baby doll

Every little girl at some point or another has owned a doll before. She has cared for it, played with it, and loved it dearly. I was one of those girl. Growing up I was always surrounded by frilly, girly, things. My grandmother loved spoiling me with lots of things, one of those things being dolls. I can still remember to this day the very first of many dolls she gave me. It fit so perfectly against my small arms, as if she was made for me and gave the slightest smell of sweet roses. Those bright, electric blue eyes that never closed blankly stared up at mine. I don't recall ever giving her a name but all i know is that to my 4 year old  self she was mine, no one else's.  Those were the years of carelessness, the years of when time seemed  to stand so still, the years filled with pure innocence where you could trust anybody.
A few days ago i happened to stumble upon that very first doll doll. Encased in a dusty trunk filled with keepsakes, there she laid at the bottom. Memories rapidly raced through me so fast I could barely keep track of them. Nothing had changed, she still looked the same way she did when I buried her in that chest when i was 8. Happiness plagued me when I started to remember all those fond memories I had of playing with her, yet somehow intertwined with that happiness was sadness. I couldn't understand at first why I had begun to feel that way and that question stuck to me like glue the entire day. Then it suddenly dawn to me at night while I was trying to fall asleep the reason I had felt that. I hadn't felt sad because I felt guilty of forgetting about something that once meant so much to me, it was because that doll along with those memories where evidence that things had changed. Time had passed, I had changed, I had grown up and my childhood days were far far gone.
As little kids all we can think about is growing up. Being teenagers, having freedom, staying past our bed times. What we don't realize is how we lucky we are to be little kids, to not have so much responsibility to carry on our shoulders. Those were the days of pure bliss, where we didn't have any worries except deciding on which corner of our paper we were going to draw the sun. I remember coming home from school and running straight to my room to play with that doll. That eagerness that I had contained during the school would break free as soon as I stepped off the bus and into the house. The weekends were filled with tea 'parities' that i would host in my room, with my doll being in the center. I begin to laugh at myself when I ever I recall such memories. It seems silly to me now but if my 5, 6 year old self would hear me say that she wouldn't have understood why I thought that.
Im glad  I have those memories, I'm glad that i was able to enjoy my childhood. We saw the world in such a different perspective then. It wasn't until we grew up that we saw how corruptive the world is and that we break everything and in the process of doing that we hurt people. The next day as I carefully put that doll back into the chest it wasn't the only thing that I was putting away in there. I was also putting away those childhood memories into a safe place, where time stood still.

Sprout

I remember back, early spring, when me and my mother decided to plant some vegetables in the back yard. It was still cold and the sun rarely came out, only dark gloomy skies could be seen. My mother told me that nothing would grow in that lifeless spot of soil, yet we still planted that cherry tomatoe plant. She turned to me and said "Don't get your hopes up, it probably won't survive and if it does it won't grow that much." I told her she was wrong that it would make it through that cold spring we were havign. I had hope in that plant that it would grow and that by summer I would have loads of tomatoes, but there was a part of me that doubted myself.

One day of the blue my mother reminded me of that small plant. I went outback to have a look and to my surprise it already had some little green tomatoes hanging off of it. Days, weeks, months passed by and it continued to grow. I began asking myself why I had doubted myself in the first place? Today that plant is far from small. It's taken over a huge section in my backyard that it has gone over the fence. My dad keeps bringing in cherry tomatoes to what seems like a daily routine, that we have gotten to the point where our fridge is overflowing with them and have started to just not pick them at all.

Just like that palnt, life is quiet similar aswell. We all have goals, dreams, ambitions etc. that we want to accomplsih in our life. They start out small just like that tomato plant and we plant it to see how far it'll grow. Many of us begin to doubt ourselves because people will tell us that those goals we have will never happen. That we'll never be able to reach it and we take step back to see that even though it might seem like a big dream it's acutally small. So small that it will never grow and we realize that those people are right. Yet some manage to see past that point and just wait to see what it might become. Paitence is the key to all of it which we must learn and acquire throughout our existence.
One day we'll look out and see that our dreams have grown. That they have grown so much that it has open doors to many opportunities that we never thought would have been possible. We'll look back to when those dreams were small and ask why we ever doubted in them? why we couldn't see the bigger picture? Life is all about having paitence and waiting, waiting for things that are uncertain. Who knows what those dreams will come to be. They might start out small just like that small tomatoe plant, it's future unknown, but eventually it'll grow.

A new start

B . - Such a simple name but that's what people tend to forget nowadays, simplicity. We are either too preoccupied to notice that the present is quickly becoming the past by getting so caught up in our own lives. We all need a place, an outlet, where we can go to to forget, to recharge  and let go of all of our worries so that we can go on with our lives. Most often it is hard to express ourselves for the fear of judgement, of being 'wrong' leading us to bottle everything up until nothing no longer is able to fit inside that bottle, shattering it to bits and pieces. Sometimes it's simply because we can't find the right words, so we just stand there mute meanwhile we feel the thoughts we so want to say clawing at the back of our throats wanting to get out, but we choose to ignore it. The beauty of blogging is that it's a way of learning how to put those thoughts into words and making sense of it. It allows us to write about anything and everything, no wrong or right answers. Blogging can balance out the stress that we may have. As for my blog, I haven't figured out what exactly what it's suppose to be but that's how everything in life is. We figure things out along the way while making mistakes and that's okay. It won't happen over night but eventually I'll get there.