Cookies

The wagon full of cookies

Blank page...what to write...what to write...

The wagon would be a gipsy wagon. I like to think that in another life I was a gypsy. I love gypsies. Those old fashioned gypsies. The cookies are my hopes and dreams. Few are real cookies. Too much sugar is not good for health, they say.

No. I was sitting here and trying to figure out what to write. I mean...what are those hopes and dreams of mine? Of course, I could write about those that I used to have. Not anymore. I’ve lost most of them.  And they never got replaced by new ones. I remember something that is written on my uncle’s wedding photo:  “It may take years to realize a dream, but dreaming itself is an elevating experience.” I think there was a time when I was dreaming more. It’s called childhood, I guess. I got used not to dream anymore about millions of things because of the fear of getting disappointed.  I don’t want this to be a sad or pessimistic story. It is not. It’s the way life goes. I take it as it is; it’s a step that made me who I am today. Of course, you lose or forget some dreams you had when you were a child. I don’t remember dreaming to become a doctor or a ballerina. I was just thinking about a happy life, a careless existence, with lots of true friends, joy, and of course, I was dreaming about finding the one. There has been a period of my life when I thought I found him. After a while, I saw that he wasn’t that one. After another while, I was certain that the one does not exist, because we are selfish and do not compromise that easy and we want to experience more. And you do need to compromise to live with someone. And you do need to experience more. Now I’m trying to forget all this and just sit and wait to see what happens next, like a spectator at a good movie. Life is a very good movie, I believe. The only difference is that we are the main character, the director and the screen writer of the movie. So that could be a hard job sometimes.

But I lie. I do dream. Even through these words I dream. In that field of sunflowers I was dreaming.

And if I think about it, I smile more often now. Not only because I don’t get disappointed, but because I salute the irony of life and I’m trying to greet every hit with a smile.

But let me get back to the wagon full of cookies. So what are the cookies? Well I guess the wagon is my life and the cookies are the events that I’ve been through and those that will come. Some are with Swiss chocolate and some are full of worms. Sorry for the grotesque image.

A gypsy wagon can be colorful and full of life and joy and music. Gypsies know how to enjoy life. But it can also be dusty and dirty and ragged.  

The best cookie of all: the music. Period.