Old Baby Stroller.
Today is a lazy hot Sunday afternoon, after being done with my snack, I find myself at the base of a fenced hill, which laces the whole orphanage all around. The sun is smiling, the flowers that surround me are in full bloom, their vibrant colors and sweet scent filling the air. Bees and butterflies flit around happily, coexisting at harmony in nature’s world, adding to the cheerful atmosphere. Happiness is in the air accompanied by kids’ laughter.
Kids from the orphanage have the ability to find joy in the simplest of things. Whatever we find at the near garbage site, which is behind the orphanage just over the hill, we all do one thing. We keep it a secret, tucked away under our beds until the perfect moment arrives. That's when we finally take it out and play with it – our brand new toys!
As I exclaimed, "I wanna try it too!" the other kids in line look on with their beaming smiles, their cheers filling the air, happy to have fun and run up and down the hill freely. The old stroller, abandoned and forgotten on a nearby garbage site, has become our ticket to boundless joy and laughter. Each push down the so-called hill felt like a wild ride, a rollercoaster of emotions that take us to places beyond our imaginations. We don’t need fancy toys or extravagant outings to have a good time – our imaginations and the world around us is enough.
As I make my way towards the gathering of children for a thrilling stroller ride, my feet sink into the soft grass beneath me. My mind is once again racing at lightning speed with thoughts and ideas. The grass feels as soft as an Aladdin carpet- just like the one I saw on black and white TV the other day; I think to myself. Well, I haven’t walked on Aladin’s carpet yet, I just know the carpet must be soft because Jasmine wouldn’t sit on it, regardless of Aladin’s love. Princesses don’t live in orphanages and they don’t sit on bad carpets either. But as I look towards the orphanage in front of me, making a shield of my palm against the sun’s beams of warmth and light, I am reminded of the divide between our world and theirs, the grown-ups world.
Staring at the old broken baby stroller, my heart swells with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. The scratched and rusty frame seems like a relic from the TV. By the way, yesterday was my turn to turn the TV on. Even the power button turns two channels on only, I still felt special. I wonder so many grown- ups live in a such small box. The only explanation I have is that all these grown-ups must be smaller than I am. Then it would make sense, of course.
But this stroller is something else! It looks like a white wicker baby one, and even one of the four wheels has lost its rubber, producing a haunting screech as it moves along the uneven bumpy, down the hill, I can’t wait to sit in it. To six-year-old me, it is nothing short of a thrilling adventure waiting to unfold.
With the stroller rescued from its forsaken fate, we eagerly line up, taking turns to experience the thrill of this newfound treasure. As I watch the others race down the so-called hill, their laughter echoing throughout the orphanage, my anticipation and curiosity grow, thinking of the child in the stroller. Is she now a grown-up, enjoying her freedom?
Finally, it is my turn. I gingerly sit down, my feet almost reaching the ground, how small the stroller is, and my arms happily elevating in the air. I feel a mix of exhilaration and nervousness. The push was swift and sudden, propelling me down the hill. My heart is racing, my stomach drops, and a wave of sheer delight washes over me. It is as if I was on a wild ride, a rollercoaster of emotions that whisked me away to unimaginable heights. I feel free, like a bird, doing whatever I want. Will I feel the same freedom when I grow up and leave the orphanage behind?
“Get out from the stroller now, and come with me! Now!” Time seems to stand still as my freedom comes to a sudden end. I know that I am in a big trouble but don’t know why. I look up and see a grown-up, who works afternoon shifts, suddenly standing in front of me, in a white coat, ordering me to follow. Confused and hearing a new excitement behind me, I just know that the stroller is being used by another kid already, having fun. Grown-ups don’t make any sense; I think to myself again.
Although I am aware that I will face punishment, the feeling of freedom is worth any consequence. And as I enter the principal's office, I pray to my universe that the grown-ups won't take our stroller - our freedom - away from us.
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