Sleeping Little Girl, Wake Up!

The Philippines: Palawan - El Nido It was early morning when Luri and I were walking across a soft, sandy beach in a small, yet increasingly touristic Filipino village called El Nido. High hills and resplendent nature were all around us. While the beach was mostly abuzz with life at night, at the moment people were scarce. The little wooden docked boats that would take masses of tourists to the most beautiful beaches in the world every day were floating lonesomely near the beach. One could only see the locals, who revealed the secrets of the underwater world to tourists during the day, mounted with scuba tanks, returning to their boats to prepare for these excursions. I felt calm. Calm within and without. Luri and I were alone, watching the crabs coming out of their shells ... One could catch sight of them for just a glimpse, then they would sink into the sand again. This sense of peace was pierced by her question, “Mom, what did you want to be when you were my age?” “My goodness. What a question at this age!” I replied. Her question hit me right where I struggle most with myself when travelling. Of course an eight-year-old wanted to know her momma’s dream. She fell silent, as if wanting to give me some time to think. Her big, brown eyes stared curiously at me, expecting an answer. The silence was reaching to the furthest depths of my being. Her words awoke the sleeping little girl within. Once upon a time, I had locked this little girl with such great dreams, expectations, longings, disappointments and sadness into a drawer and turned the light off. Life continued its course. Luri helped me to summon this hidden part of me. Hurriedly, I explained to her that her grandfather’s greatest wish for me was to become a doctor. I had never fulfilled his expectation because I had become a vet. I loved animals, and so, at the age of 18, I thought it was a good alternative. During my studies, I had the chance to work with wild animals and dreamed of living among orangutans in the Indonesian rainforest or among African elephants. In reality, however, I had never really wanted to heal only cats, dogs, and cows. A WRITER “But, I’ve always wanted to write; to be a writer,” I whispered. “Yes, I thought so,” remarked Luri. “You’ve got so many books and you read every day.” I remember mentioning to my parents once how much I had wanted to study journalism. My father explained to me at once that I could still write if I really wanted, but that it was better for me to choose some other, more “esteemed” vocation. The mother of one of Luri’s schoolmates confided in us, too: “For a long time, it must have been about ten years, I never shared with anyone that my basic training was as a preschool childcare worker assistant. I thought it was an inferior vocation. Having my own children now, I can see what an important job it is.” The mother of another of Luri’s schoolmates said, “I’ve loved sewing since I was very young. But, since I had been very good at school, my parents thought it was unthinkable to train as a seamstress.” Today, she’s a proud mother of three daughters, whom she dresses in her exquisite works of art. “Mom, you can still become a writer, you know. I’ll help you. We’ll sit together and we’ll write a book. You set the book price and I’ll sell all the copies. I promise,” spoke Luri eagerly and convincingly. As I’m away on business more often than not, she’s convinced that one has to work without stopping to survive, and have at least three jobs. She can’t wait to start making her own money. At the age of eight, she already has a detailed plan for a job search. She’s written her first job application, and she has every intention of going door to door to ask people if they have work for her; she is a natural businesswoman. I’m sure many unemployed adults rarely have such courage. Many prefer to wait at home and feel sorry for themselves. Her words moved me deeply. When I gave birth to her and her brother, who is a little older, I forgot about myself. Constantly having to care for two young children and a demanding job left no room for myself. So one day, I simply discovered I was gone. Somewhere along the way I had not only lost my dream, but also myself. That’s what happens to many women my age, who, due to caring for their families and increasingly demanding jobs, cease to dream and lose their sense of self. One might be unhappy at work, but simply too weary in the evening to think about, let alone to deal with, a problem. However, somewhere deep within, there still lives a sleeping little girl who needs to be awakened.