Searching For Buried Treasure

I watched her rifle through my basket of stuffed animals, her little back curled over the rest of her body, her legs bent and concealed beneath her. She took each toy in her hand, and one by one, carefully inspected their condition. I noticed right away how closely she was examining them, how deeply intent she was on making sure she found the perfect one. I knew she was searching for treasure, for a special toy that she could be proud of discovering, a hidden gem that needed her as much as she needed it. I knew she was searching for love.

My mom leaned over and whispered “that’s exactly how you were as a child, raised in the world of yard sales.” Immediately I remembered. I remembered my small hands sorting through the castaway toys of other households. I remembered the feeling of wanting to save them all, wanting to take them all home and love them as they so deserved to be loved. I remembered knowing that I couldn’t, knowing that I had to choose the perfect one to claim as my own. I remembered what it felt like to search.

How simple life was then. I looked at this little girl and thought about how much she’ll learn over the years, how much she’ll come to understand. I thought about myself at that age, so innocent and safe, so unaware of what was to come. I often wonder if that’s how adults look at me now, remembering their early twenties as a time of freedom and resilience, a time free from responsibility, a time when the possibilities were endless.

The possibilities are endless. I know I’ve said this a thousand times before, but what an exhilarating feeling to know that I have my whole life ahead of me. There are so many things that I want to experience, so many places I want to go, so many dreams I want to fulfill. There is so much to be discovered. They say that the college years are the best years of your life, but my favorite thing about these years is the prospect of better years ahead. I love the uncertainty of it all. I love that I have no idea where I’ll be in five, ten, twenty years. I love that in an instant, everything could change.

Yes, it generally scares me to death that I don’t have a plan, that with each passing day I am more and more uncertain about what I want to do with my life. It’s scary to wander so aimlessly, but it’s also wonderful. I learn more being lost than I ever could following directions. I am more content asking questions than I am finding answers. That’s what life is all about. Of course, there is a part of me that worries that while all my friends become doctors and lawyers, I’ll be serving them lunch at the local dive of a restaurant. There is a legitimate fear in not working towards a high paying job, in not being logical about my financial future. I’ve been educated enough to know that unfortunately, money does matter. It provides stability, opportunities, freedom. My biggest fear is being stuck in an unhappy life because I’m dependent on money. That’s how most people live. That’s the way the world works. Still, I have to believe in something more. Still, I am a dreamer.

I believe that the path is more important than the destination. The pursuit of happiness is more valuable than happiness itself. The process of learning is more essential than the facts that are learned. I suppose I’ll always be that little girl, hunting for treasure in other people’s trash. I’ll always be that little girl with the hopeful gleam in her eye, knowing that somewhere in the midst of all the chaos, there is that perfect something that will inspire love. I'll always be that little girl, searching, searching, searching.