Thursday, 22 September 2011

• Fix You

  

  Ever walk past something that needs tending to, whether it belongs to you or not doesn't matter, you soon find yourself trying to make that thing "better."

  Maybe a hungry cat waiting for food. An old lady with 3 bags of groceries needing help with a door. A child alone and sitting on one end of a seesaw. A piece of glass jutting out of the sand. A turned-over sign outside a restaurant. 

  Something in your heart makes it yours to fix. You run home to fetch a bowl and fill it with milk. As you kneel down to let the kitty drink, you find your hands stroking its orangey white coat. "There you go sweetheart." Scratching its head. Walking away, feeling in your heart you've just given some warmth and comfort to a starved kitten. All is good in this world.

  Judy and I attended the same class in our 12th grade year. As little as I attended class, we became very close. I'd write her silly notes and slipped them into her hands as we passed each other in the hall. We'd walk hand in hand through our school yard. We had a day when we purposely wore white shirt and brown pants and declared it our White shirt brown pants day. 

  I saw in her an intelligent and happy soul. Something about her smile would make the world seem so innocent. It was so simple. 

  She saw in I, potential, greatness in waiting, blocked and hindered by my problems. She saw a glass cage preventing my growth, and she was determined to break it.

  After school she'd help with my studies, during school she made sure I went to my classes, she even took me to the Youth Christian meetings at lunch.

  I was her project. The broken winged bird that she must nurse back to health. 

  She would not be the last.

  Perhaps it was in my smile which hid the frown upon my face. Perhaps my unfortunate history beckons their motherly instincts, but I was the project for many.

  They'd pick me off the sidewalk, run to their homes, return with the biggest saucer and the sweetest of milk. Scratching and stroking along the way. Reassuring me with, "There you go sweetheart." Thankful I am for their love and kindness. Missing them I'd always as they walk away feeling in their hearts they just gave me the comfort and warmth I needed.

  Little do they know, I never want to be fixed. Even though I appear to be broken, even if its true, I need not fixing. It is often those hands that try to fix me that leaves me broken. Please don't fix me. I'd rather be a cat that people simply walk past. My calls aren't for your sympathy. I am a cat after all, it is simply in my nature to do so. Don't mistake my loneliness as a cry for attention, I cry out not for your hand. You may hear my cries, but all you have to do is listen. Please do not comfort me, please do not stroke my hair, please, don't try to fix me. I'd only cry more in the end.

  Have you ever tried to "fix" someone before? Did someone try to "fix" you?

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