Around September of 2009, I started writing a book. I haven’t finished it yet, but I imagine the story below could have been lifted straight from the pages.
The book is about “Boy,” my (imaginary) friend and confidant during my very tender preschool years. Boy went with me everywhere, he was quite capable and able to to anything that I could not. We were a wonderful pair. Boy had some goals and dreams, and I’m sure you could guess many of them – typical “American Dream” type activities: growing up, going to college, getting married, having a family, owning a business, you know the drill.
Maybe someday I’ll get around to telling you about “Girl,” too. Her story is still being written.
My best friend, Boy, and I did everything together – I suppose we had to, since he was stuck in my head. The great thing about Boy was he could fit anywhere I wanted him to. He sat next to me in the car, yet he could ride around in “matchbox” cars, too. He walked with me through parks, yet he never had to pay to get into the zoo.
As Boy got older, his interests changed, his goals shifted, his attitude adjusted, and his personality began to take flight. Boy loves computers and music, serving others and spending time outside, and almost nothing could stop him from dreaming big dreams. He reminds me a lot of someone else I know.
Boy was on time for everything. His timing was impeccable. I try to be early to most things arriving far enough ahead of time that I can talk to people, find my way if I’m lost, or give a look around and let my senses tell me if something is amiss; but sometimes I’m right on time – which I was taught is fifteen minutes late.
He always knows the perfect thing to say in any situation. He could turn a phrase and bring a crowd to their feet in thunderous applause, or he could bring tears to the eyes of everyone in earshot. He understands his power and can control it with ease, using it only for good, and never for evil. I’d love to be more like Boy. I’m kind of slow sometimes — when there’s something important to discuss, I freeze up sometimes, struggling to find the words. I end up finally ready to speak my mind, only to find I’m fifteen minutes late.
My Boy has many times been keen to jump in and save the day with a helping hand or a well-thought gesture. I’m usually as thoughtful, but slow on the execution. When it’s way past time for action, I realize I should have acted. I end up being fifteen minutes late.
Boy is everything I want to be; nimble, quick, and kind.
He knows exactly how to act, what to say; frankly it blows my mind.
I struggle daily to be patient and humble, to practice what I preach.
Boy hasn’t nearly the fight to win each day, in his mind he’s at the beach.
Boy is honest, loving, and sweet, he’d be handy in a pinch.
I’m most of these things, most of the time, but sometimes I’m the Grinch.
I’m trying to keep up my smile and spirits, to be what I should be.
I know a God who loves me, and meets my every need.
It’s a mess sometimes, my scattered life, just like my unmade bed.
Boy requires far less effort, since he’s stuck inside my head.
My life won’t ever be as perfect, as the one that Boy enjoys.
But I know it is always better, when I focus on my blessings and joys.
I’m hoping that he will always lead me to the places he thinks are great.
I just hope I catch up; even beat him there – not be fifteen minutes late.