We're all creators of our own masterpiece. And this creation may or may not have a tangible form. A tune, a poem, a winning goal, a child, a feeling...
All it needs is a little passion. A small pulse. A tiny power. A life of its own.
And life is a mystery.
Most of the time, it whizzes past us in a blur. Some days I wake up happy. Some nights I go to bed feeling miserable. But most of the time, I'm somewhere in between the two.
Just like everybody else, I have problems. But I never have to worry about food, water, clothes, a roof over my head or a family to call my own.
Ever since I was a child, I've wanted to witness a miracle.
Like every little girl, I waited for a fairy with translucent wings and a shimmering white dress to touch me with her magic wand. Call it an overdose of Enid Blyton's books in my early years, but I really did believe in pixies and goblins. For a long time, that's all I thought miracles could be made of.
It's strange how the definition of a single word changes at different stages in an individual's life.
When I was a teenager, a miracle no longer meant an encounter with my fairy Godmother who'd turn a pumpkin into a stagecoach for me. When you're 17, a miracle in an average teenage girl's life means making it back home before the curfew time your Dad's set for you. And believe me, Cinderella had nothing to lose in comparison!
Now that I'm older (not wiser, just older), the parameters of a miracle have changed again.
For a long time, I thought it'd be a miracle if the ideal job offer would come through. But it did. A good job. A good boss. A good workplace. And as soon as it all came together, it ceased being a miracle.
I've never felt that meeting the perfect man would be a miracle. I've met men who've been more than perfect to me. I've met the other kind too, but let's leave that for another time.
My miracles meet fulfillment. And no, I don't aim low at all.
And maybe that's where my talent lies. In recognizing the music around me without being able to play or sing a single note. In appreciating art without being able to tell the colors apart. In appreciating a photograph without being able to tell the correct position of the lens.
And in loving life, without being able to understand any part of it. And that is my very own miracle.
I've never felt that meeting the perfect man would be a miracle. I've met men who've been more than perfect to me. I've met the other kind too, but let's leave that for another time.
My miracles meet fulfillment. And no, I don't aim low at all.
And maybe that's where my talent lies. In recognizing the music around me without being able to play or sing a single note. In appreciating art without being able to tell the colors apart. In appreciating a photograph without being able to tell the correct position of the lens.
And in loving life, without being able to understand any part of it. And that is my very own miracle.
