Stepping Stones

Stepping Stones was the name of the first educational institute I went to. Mind you, my kindergarten. It was such a colorful place and I still remember details like the layout of the tiny house, the rooms, the little kitchen where we had our breakfast, the toilet sink where I washed my hands from paint that I splashed all over the wall of the room next door. The hard-to-recall face of my random nanny.

This is merely a memory that has visited me last night as I laid in bed thinking how to sleep, but I thought it couldn’t have been out of the blue and I tried to trace back the sequence of my thoughts and why did I end up remembering that little clear in my memory yet vaguely part of my life. It does feel like yesterday at moments.

It was the name of the kindergarten. Stepping Stones. These two words are possibly the very first two words I have known in the English language. My father was generous enough as to translate what it means and pay my tuition. I have to mention that because it was a high standard kind of kindergarten for where we lived. It’s called gratefulness, something I learned in Stepping Stone number 7294 of my life. If to say, lessons in my life are marked by stones – grow an imagination!

So I somehow stumbled into the word step, stepping.. steps.. and I automatically recalled the very first time I heard the word. I was basically in the midst of assessing myself, assessing my steps. Trying to measure and balance my stones. Have I still got my stones or have I lost my marbles ?! The good news is I didn’t yet. But am just glad how the word took me back in time and reminded me that one day I was a child who knew almost nothing… He saw the world from a very different angle, from his corner in the circle of many innocent kids listening to a smiley happy lady telling them a day time story about a man and his truck. His knowing of very little made life look much more colorful. I seriously wish that one day I can revisit these days.

Unlike today, 20 years later after my first stepping stone; the world is grumpy, dull, dark, sad, full of misery and melodramatic people like me..  It has less colors and no one paints their hands on walls anymore. From such a nostalgic point of view I feel it would have been better if things never changed and I had never grown up. Ok this could be a big fat lie because I know it would have gotten extremely boring at some point, yet, there is a scent of that time that I don’t think Ill ever get bored of.

Melodramatic you may say, but I am speaking of something all of us have experienced, the stepping stones.. We all started somewhere.. we all were infants full of innocence. Just tell me, WHERE did it go wrong ??

Don’t think about answering that question. For answers are not even articulatory. But the one simple answer could be.. C’est la vie.

After the assessment and the reminiscing moments I decided to share this with you. It might remind someone of their first stepping stones, the days when they were in peace. Maybe when they remember their innocent childhood, it would help them feel hopeful ? to move on from any sadness ? to progress ? to step on bigger stones and do better ? I can only hope. I’m not sure how it works but for me it had reassured me knowing that I have grown, I have changed, I have become stronger and certainly there is a lot I have learned, then why should I put it to waste ? I shall only make the best out of my life, God willing.



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