Searching by Mecki Cervantes
SEARCHING
By Mecki Cervantes
When I was young, I often found myself lost in malls. My mom would wonder off, thinking I was right behind her. My curiosity would often get the best of me, gluing me in front of the wide array of colorful displays amidst the buzz of strangers walking aimlessly around the mall. The instant I sense that my mom has wondered off, I realize that here I am, a lost child without a clear sense of direction, in the middle of an unfamiliar territory and seamlessly insignificant to the rest who seem to know where to go. With hope and gut fell, I’d look for mom and find her calm and composed, unaware of the uncharted path I bravely took to find her.
Years after, I’ve acquired a keen sense of direction. I’ve memorized the whole mall I can even see it with my eyes closed. However, the sparkling and colorful displays don’t suspend my world like it used to. I look at kids enjoying the rides. I chuckle. I can’t believe I once had the time of my life riding one of those. The kids who get lost don’t catch my attention either. They’ll find their way, just like I did. Now, I’ve become one of those who walked aimlessly at malls.
And doing that, I saw a kid. His eyes were shining brightly, a wide grin spread across his innocent face. He was so excited and awestruck at the same time that I have to stop and watch him. It turned out that he was about to ride an escalator. That was all it took to render him in awe- nothing fancy, nothing out of this world. Maybe it was his first ride, maybe his fiftieth. Maybe it didn’t matter.
I thought to myself, “I was once like him.” Once, I was always looking at things, not just seeing them, but really looking at them. Once, I never ran out of questions, never grew tired of looking up, never thought that what I knew was enough. Where is that person? Did I lose her? And if I did, will I find her?
Like the pilot in Little Prince, I, too, had to grow old and for some reason, we all have to. Even the child
By Mecki Cervantes
When I was young, I often found myself lost in malls. My mom would wonder off, thinking I was right behind her. My curiosity would often get the best of me, gluing me in front of the wide array of colorful displays amidst the buzz of strangers walking aimlessly around the mall. The instant I sense that my mom has wondered off, I realize that here I am, a lost child without a clear sense of direction, in the middle of an unfamiliar territory and seamlessly insignificant to the rest who seem to know where to go. With hope and gut fell, I’d look for mom and find her calm and composed, unaware of the uncharted path I bravely took to find her.
Years after, I’ve acquired a keen sense of direction. I’ve memorized the whole mall I can even see it with my eyes closed. However, the sparkling and colorful displays don’t suspend my world like it used to. I look at kids enjoying the rides. I chuckle. I can’t believe I once had the time of my life riding one of those. The kids who get lost don’t catch my attention either. They’ll find their way, just like I did. Now, I’ve become one of those who walked aimlessly at malls.
And doing that, I saw a kid. His eyes were shining brightly, a wide grin spread across his innocent face. He was so excited and awestruck at the same time that I have to stop and watch him. It turned out that he was about to ride an escalator. That was all it took to render him in awe- nothing fancy, nothing out of this world. Maybe it was his first ride, maybe his fiftieth. Maybe it didn’t matter.
I thought to myself, “I was once like him.” Once, I was always looking at things, not just seeing them, but really looking at them. Once, I never ran out of questions, never grew tired of looking up, never thought that what I knew was enough. Where is that person? Did I lose her? And if I did, will I find her?
Like the pilot in Little Prince, I, too, had to grow old and for some reason, we all have to. Even the child