So it's for a writing class I am taking...

For my writing class I had to write an essay and then publish it online somewhere. Something about childhood, but since my head injury and medication I can only remember snippits from my childhood, and I am not sure how much of it is real memory vs thinking I remember...does that make sense? I do however remember the feeling of sitting staring at the presents under the Christmas tree and trying to guess what they contained.

So here it is:

Bright & Shiny

Children are often told that they can achieve anything they put their mind to, and be anything they want to be. They are set up to believe that life is a clean slate full of promise and reward, so they should set their sights high and dream big! Parents don’t want to be the ones to explain to their child that they are too tall to be a jockey, too sensitive to be a surgeon, or too near sighted to be a helicopter pilot. Parents want their kids to be protected from reality as long as possible...putting off the inevitable collision with the real world.  

Like many, I can remember sitting around the Christmas tree as a child, imagining what dreams the gifts contained. Brightly wrapped parcels with hidden name tags, containing anything the imagination could conjure. My wish list stuck in my head as I tried to consider which items could fit in which parcels. The lights from the tree would shine and blink and make everything seems magical. Sitting beside that tree, looking down at the gifts would fill me with hope and elation.

I wasn’t silly enough to actually think that the item that topped my Christmas list could actually fit in one of those parcels, as ponies can be hard to wrap, but there was the hope that one year a box might contain a halter or brush that belonged to a pony waiting for me at the barn. If not a real pony for Christmas, than perhaps one of the plastic Breyer ponies that eventually lined my bedroom shelves and taunted my imagination. Christmas was set up as magical time, and even now as an adult, thinking about the excitement of looking under the Christmas tree brings back those feels of hope and expectation.

By the time Christmas would come, I would have assigned dreams to those boxes of mystery such that my expectations would be high! Of course year after year, those boxes were found to contain sweaters, games and books. All sensible gifts, that under normal circumstances would have been much appreciated, but as Christmas was a time of magical wishes, those normal, sensible gifts were little more than a let-down. They were a reminder of the reality that a family with four kids that lives in the city, just isn’t that likely to have a pony.

So eventually the pony slid down my wish list to become only a line at the bottom. Left there perhaps as a selfish reminder to my parents of the let down of not having been able to give me a pony. The top of the list was filled my more sensible and practical gifts: things that my parents may actually be able to procure.

Working within the parameters of reality didn’t lessen my enjoyment of Christmas or the magic of wondering what was in the parcels, rather it increased it, as the gifts could meet my expectations, and I was more likely to be right about what was within the magically boxes. I imagine it also made Christmas easier for my parents who no longer had to guess what I wanted other than the pony!

Even though I learned the lesson of realistic expectations as a child at Christmas, it didn’t stop me from taking courses in University that would lead me to a job that I would not have wanted to do, nor did it stop me from trying to play with the wealthy in the world of horses, spending money that likely could have been better spent elsewhere. Despite lessons showing otherwise, the concept of “anything is possible” is so ingrained at a young age, that it is hard to shake and move beyond. Life has to keep correcting and reminding us of reality, often with emotionally trying consequences.

I blame parents, teachers and TV specials for the encouragement of this lie. I don’t think they do so because they want to see children fall flat or be crushed when reality sets in, but rather because they want to believe that anything is possible for the child for as long as they possibly can maintain that charade. The problem is that children grow up feeling let down or like failures along the way, as they realize that there are some things that just aren’t possible. Perhaps even worse: the child that reaches adulthood with no understanding of the reality of limitations, and meets the world overwhelmed by possibilities and pressure, along with the fear of failure. Is it really any wonder that some kids end up being career students and live at home for years into adulthood?

I still get excited by bright shiny packages with my name on them; I just no longer expect for a pony to be inside, and I am happier for it.