One boy’s dream

It was a very warm, and as soon as the bell rang, signalling the end of school, the children stampeded out, eager to escape into their world of freedom. The seniors headed for their homes driven by the urgency to study for the upcoming exam. The younger ones however, lingered by the school gates, waiting for their parents to come and pick them up.

They chased each other playfully. Others treated themselves to ice-creams and other goodies from the vendor who sat under a nearby tree. Among all this frolic, was a little odd-ball. He was called Thomas and he tried to amuse himself by watching the other kids play until his dad came to pick him up. He was skinny, tall and lean.

Invariably, his gaze would dart at the tasty looking tit-bits the vendor flashed about. But he kept forcing himself to look away; where could he get the money? And no, he didn’t stealing very wise. No matter how hungry he was, he would never steal. His stomach growled aloud. The sugar and butter sandwiches were not enough to fill up a growing boy like him. But what else could his mum do?

His gaze turned back longingly at the snacks, despite himself. Well, looking at it wouldn’t hurt, would it? He slowly stumbled towards the vendor. He gazed at the food open mouthed, forgetting himself. Suddenly, he felt a strong grip on his shoulder. He looked back and was frightened to see a man holding on to him. “Son,” he said in a surprisingly kind voice.”Is there anything you would like from here?”

His dad’s constant warnings to keep away from strangers flashed on his mind, so Thomas shook his head. But the man kept insisting. “Go on sonny,” the vendor encouraged him with a smile, and Thomas felt his resolve giving way. With a shaking hand he pointed at a round, paper-thin biscuit, a childhood fantasy of his. The man smiled and immediately bought one. “Thank you”, Thomas whispered.

The man nodded with a twinkle in his eye. And then Thomas was running, clutching the biscuit to his chest as if it was the most precious thing in the world. He was running, tripping on his feet to enjoy the bliss he never had. But the biscuit was suddenly in powders by his feet. Too frail to stand against the wind, frail as his own small body. And the sounds of laughing children drowned out his helpless snivel.

Shenali Boteju Holy Family Convent, Bambalapitya