It was a trudge back home. She happened to look up and saw the new leaves of spring, bursting green against the sky. The bags on both sides weighed down her arms, contrasting against the lightness she saw above. Her foot put itself in front of the other as she made her steps.
Meanwhile among the clouds, a thousand pixies danced on their toes marking the trails their tiny feet had kissed. It was these spots that she saw from below, and the wind in her ears their soft laughter.
‘Come up here,’ they beckoned in-between movement. For a moment, she had closed her eyes and she heard them. ‘It’s heaven up here.’
She knew it was, oh, she knew it must be. For their spirits were light and their breaths were laughters.
But then there was a pull in her muscle, and in a flash, she was reminded of those bags she was carrying. Her heart fell, and apologetically, she told them, ‘I can’t. I’m afraid I can’t join you up there for these bags are mine and heavy they are indeed.’
To which they replied, ‘You’ll have to drop those. They have no place up here.’
But she couldn’t. How could she, she thought. She had obtained them, earned some, along her long journey. They were hers! How could she just drop them!
The leaves still bristled and she still put one foot in front of the other. The longer she’d walked meant that the closer she was getting. Suddenly, she paused. ‘Getting to where?’ a voice in her head asked. She had always thought of getting that place, imagined it; and now it was projected sharp and clear right before her. There was one thing though -her bags wouldn’t be allowed through either. Like checkpoints at the airport before you are allowed in to the departure lounge, except that you couldn’t bring any luggage in at all through this one. She took a very long pause and turned towards the sky again.
So, was she just trudging through life bearing those burdens of histories she claimed as hers? Was she just waiting till she reached the end only to realise that she had to, after all, still put down all those she had so faithfully carried all along? What about those joy-filled winged creatures? Maybe she could join them there; maybe it was the same destination they reached except that they chose to fly instead. Oh, wouldn’t it be nice if she chose the same!
And somewhere along the lines, it was probably someone who had told her to keep her hold on those. Those flimsy single-use plastic bags which held what she thought was hers, but only for temporarily so.
She realised that really, she could collect them again. There had to be faith that they would come in times needed, and after they no longer served, she really ought to let go so she could pick up better ones which suited better. How would she be able to get the new ones if she kept her hands perpetually full?
And it was like the clamps sprang open. Her fingers widened as she, gently so for she could not bear to do it in any other way, let go of her belongings, watching them land with a small thud by the side of the road. Again, she closed her eyes. She took in one big breath, feeling the currents stir around her. When she opened her eyes, she was above ground. She really was.
A chorus of pixie laughs came towards her and swirled in a magnificent hurricane and she realised that together with it came a newfound courage. After all, the pixies had made a billion tracks. Someday, she could look back at the new ones she made and connecting those dots, she would realise that they had brought her exactly where she was to be.