Once upon a time there was a girl who was on a mission; a mission to find her own nugget of happiness.
On her quest she travelled to the mystical South India, climbed up to the top of a sacred hill where she met a little old man who put a piece of orange and red string around her wrist. As he did so, the girl made a promise to herself. She said, “This string will not fall off until I have found my happiness.” And this is a promise she intended to keep for life.
So the girl and her new string left India, remaining close to one another and always retelling the story of how they met. Together they travelled through sky, sea, mud and mountain. They have cried together, laughed together, been completely drenched in god only knows what together. It seemed they were inseparable, they had become one.
However, unknown to the girl, the string was growing weaker every day, taking the full blast of her antics. One accident too many and the string eventually gave up. Kicking the bucket on one fine day in May.
Although the string left the girl’s wrist, the wound will always be fresh, hanging on like a ghost. One day she knows it will fade. The string will be nothing but a memory, but she will never forget what it represents. For she has kept her promise, seeking happiness in all areas of her life.
I think that the string knew something she didn’t. I think it knew that as it got weaker, she was only growing stronger. Now, TWO LONG YEARS LATER she can continue her quest alone.
Goodbye string, my wrist will miss you sorely.
|The day I got my string.|
|2 long years.|
|It hurt my heart a little bit.|