The Hand
Do we always
grow apart…
when we stop
holding hands?
One afternoon,
outside school,
a parent
held out a hand,
just as they always had.
The teenager smiled.
Then quietly slipped
both hands
into their pockets.
"I'm okay."
"I can walk."
For a moment,
the hand
stayed in the air.
Then,
it slowly came back.
"Okay."
the parent smiled.
And together,
they walked home.
Not hand in hand.
Just...
side by side.
That night,
the teenager
looked through
an old photo album.
There they were.
Crossing a street.
Tiny fingers
wrapped tightly
around that same hand.
Holding on
as if
they would never let go.
They smiled.
They couldn't remember
when
they had stopped
holding hands.
Years passed.
One day,
they crossed another street.
This time,
the young adult
looked beside them,
and gently reached out.
"Careful."
they whispered.
The parent smiled.
Without saying a word,
they held the hand
for just a moment.
The traffic lights changed.
They kept walking.
Together.
The School Picture
If one picture can't tell the whole story...
what makes us believe
one opinion can?
One autumn morning,
everyone lined up
for school pictures.
One by one,
they smiled.
Click.
Then everyone went back to class.
A week later,
the photos arrived.
The classroom filled with laughter.
"I blinked!"
"My hair looks funny!"
"I can't believe that's me!"
One teenager looked quietly
at their own picture.
After a long moment,
they whispered,
"I don't look like that."
After school,
they showed it to a friend.
"It looks exactly like you."
Later,
their grandmother smiled
when she saw the same picture.
"I love your eyes."
The teenager looked
at the photograph again.
It hadn't changed.
The same picture.
The same smile.
Yet somehow,
everyone seemed
to be looking
at someone different.
That night,
they stood in front
of the bathroom mirror.
Then they looked
back at the photograph.
Mirror.
Photo.
Mirror.
Photo.
Neither one
felt big enough
to hold
everything they knew
about themselves.
Before going to bed,
they slipped
the picture
into a drawer.
Then,
for the first time,
they wondered...
If one picture
can never tell
the whole story...
perhaps
one opinion can't either.
Pause for a Moment
Sometimes,
we let one picture
decide how we feel.
Sometimes,
we let one opinion
decide who we are.
Perhaps...
they were never
the whole story.
The Mirror
Every mirror reflects a face.
Have you ever wondered:
What reflects the way we see ourselves?
Every morning,
a young teenager stood in front of the mirror.
They brushed their hair.
Straightened their clothes.
Sometimes,
they leaned in a little closer
to see if another tiny pimple
had appeared overnight.
Then,
they picked up their backpack
and left for school.
They had never wondered
whether the person in the mirror
was really who they were.
It had always been this way.
So it simply felt...
normal.
One weekend,
they visited their grandmother.
In her bedroom
stood an old mirror.
Its silver frame had faded.
The glass wasn't as clear
as the one at home.
When the teenager looked into it,
they paused.
For a moment,
they looked...
different.
On the way home,
they kept thinking
about that old mirror.
That evening,
they stood quietly
in front of the mirror at home.
They looked
for a long time.
Then a question
gently appeared.
Which mirror...
looks more like me?
No one answered.
The mirrors didn't answer either.
The next morning,
they brushed their hair.
Straightened their clothes.
Picked up their backpack.
Just before leaving,
they turned around
and looked into the mirror
one more time.
This time,
it didn't feel
like they were looking
at their reflection.
It felt
like they were looking
for something.
Pause for a Moment
Every mirror reflects a face.
But have you ever wondered...
What reflects the way
we see ourselves?
The Little Recorder Inside
If you've heard the same voice for as long as you can remember...
Would you know whether it was ever yours?
One afternoon,
a four-year-old girl ran into the kitchen holding a picture she had just finished.
"Mom!"
"Look what I made!"
Her mother was busy.
Without looking up, she smiled and said,
"Not now, sweetheart."
The little girl nodded.
She walked away.
The drawing stayed on the table.
A few days later,
she spilled some milk.
"Oh..."
she whispered.
"I'm so clumsy."
No one had called her clumsy.
Not that day.
Years passed.
The little girl grew up.
She became thoughtful.
Hardworking.
Kind.
Whenever someone praised her,
she smiled politely.
Then quietly wondered
if they really meant it.
Whenever she made a mistake,
another voice answered first.
One day,
she found an old cassette recorder in a second-hand shop.
She pressed PLAY.
A familiar voice filled the room.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't angry.
It had simply been playing
for a very,
very
long time.
She wondered,
almost with surprise,
who had pressed RECORD.
She never found the answer.
But after that day,
every now and then,
when the old recording began to play,
she smiled.
And instead of reaching for the volume,
she simply listened.
A little more gently.
Is there a sentence
that has been quietly playing
inside you
for so long
that you've forgotten
it was only a recording?
The Fish
If a little fish
has lived
in the ocean
since the day
it was born...
Would it ever know
what the ocean is?
There once was
a little fish
who had lived
in the ocean
since the day
it was born.
One morning,
it asked
an older fish,
"Everyone keeps talking
about the ocean.
What is it?"
The older fish smiled.
"You've been in it
your whole life."
The little fish
looked around.
It saw
other fish.
Seaweed.
Rocks.
Sunlight
shining through the water.
But no ocean.
"I still don't see it."
it said.
The older fish
didn't answer.
They simply
kept swimming.
That evening,
the little fish
looked up.
The light
danced across the water.
Everything
felt exactly
the same.
Yet somehow...
different.
It wondered...
Could it be
that the biggest things
are sometimes
the hardest to see?
They kept swimming.