
°°•●◦ Ëşşаy #4 I am §oŗŗy l ĥávë leŧ yøu down ◦•●°°
The little kid that I left behind was the little boy I left in the past. He was the little one I let down. The little kid was me. Days before today I had a long conversation with me as an eight year old. It was not exactly a physical interaction of course, but it was mental. I felt sorry and ashamed for this kid, who smiling stares at to me. His eyes gave the appearance of anger for abandoned his dreams. His thoughts were to become a professional baseball player or a recognized lawyer or a powerful person in his hometown. But these ideas disappeared day by day and then year by year. I could not even notice how the course of the time was absorbing my hopes and wishes to become an important person.
Giving a carefully scrutiny to my old pictures when I was a kid, I found one where I was with my father. I was wearing a blue sport shirt and a white jersey over it. The picture was taken during a baseball tournament held in my city. I was happy; my big smile says it all. The smile on my face implied to me a sarcastic look. I could not keep my eyes on his. The image of the boy brought me to the times were I was in high spirits, the time when everything gave the appearance of being easy. I could not appreciate frustration, pain or desperation, instead of it, this boy in the picture asked me why I let his dreams drain away. He wanted continue playing baseball as always, he wanted to stay close to home and do not abandoned the town and friends or family. The little kid dreamed of the day when he could be part of the professional league of baseball. Now, I can hear through the picture his voice saying, why did you let me in the past and do not bring me to the present? Why are you a drag?
It is really incredible that an object like an apparently a simple picture can transmit message from our childhood. These pictures’ function is to keep us in line. Those are little remainders to all of us who have left their dreams in the past. Curiously, this picture suddenly brought me to the times when following my uncle career I dreamed to became a lawyer. I was convinced that if my dream of becoming a baseball player failed, I would be a public prosecutor. What a drag, apparently, the little boy constantly repeats through the picture. I cannot do anything now, just listen to the voices from my past and look to see where my mistake was or in what moment I permitted the circumstances that stole my self-determination.
I keep a constant battle in my mind. The memories that images from my past transferred are strong enough to create, in my head, an atmosphere of concern and frustration. The picture I held days ago remind of me the time when I promised my parents that I would never move far way from them, nevertheless I left my country. I miss the time I used to play with my friends, the time I spent running thought the forest. The little boy remained me of the era which I spent raising hens and lambs. He reminded me of the time when my mother conversed with me. I still remember the long and dark nights. Those are unforgettable and I believe that those will be with me until my last breath.
Sorry little boy for dragging your dreams down. Sorry for forgetting the promises that I made you when you were an infant. There is not changed to go back to the past and rescue you, but I want to finish by saying that I cannot do anything about the past. I want to keeping with the idea that I can deal with the present and work hard to prepare you and enhance our future.





