I believe that the little things are what really matter. It really doesn’t matter how much money you have, the car you drive, or the house you live in, although that’s what you may look back on twenty years from now. The little things are what make you happy. They’re what need the most attention.
What’s the definition of the worst day ever? In my case it was: 1. My friend and I had a huge fight, 2. My parents got mad at me, 3. My sister was mad at me because I borrowed her socks, and 4. I couldn’t figure out how to do any of the moves during ballet. So, we’ve agreed that’s a pretty bad day, right? I didn’t think it could get better because whatever’s bad can only get worse.
When I came home, I threw my black Capezio dance bag on the scratchy, brown, disgusting floor of the living room, which was my room at the time because my actual room was under construction and had been for some time. The fact that I didn’t have a room, didn’t have a place all my own to laugh or cry, scream or shout, only made things worse. There I was, flopped on my comfy (or not so), leather “bed” a.k.a the couch, still in my black leotard and tights rolled up to my knees, Reef flip flops, and on the verge of tears. The came my little brother, Cole. At three foot four and four years old, he’s either a destructive little demon or the sweetest little angel. Most of the time he’s screaming, destructive, and loud. In other words, most of the time he was a tiny demon from planet Destructiod.
I could hear his lime green and black Croc flip-flops smack the unfinished wooden stairs and could picture him with a devilish look in his eye and his head ready for a good head butt in my stomach. I thought to myself, Oh great. This is exactly what I needed on a day like this. I hope he just goes away. As he turned the corner from the stairs, he was running full force at the couch with determination in his eyes. Then as he saw me, he slowed with a quizzical look on his pudgy little face.
“Weena,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing Cole. Just go away.” I was barely choking out the words. My voice was cracking. Something was wrong and he knew it. Darn kids with crazy sixth senses!
“I love you.”
And with those words, those three simple words, the sun suddenly burst out behind my rainy cloud and the marching band began to play once more with the notes right and the tempo up.
“I love you too, Cole.”
I had never thought the importance of an ‘I love you’. It seemed so insignificant so unimportant, so automatic. Then I started thinking about other small things: sunshine, daisies, pink fingernails, my favorite jeans. The little things that makes us so smiley and happy. Think about it. When the sun comes out behind a rain cloud, you feel warmer and sunnier. When you put on your favorite jeans, you feel safer and cozier. When you smell the daisies, you feel uplifted and spiritual. When you paint your fingernails that perfectly ridiculous shade of pink, you feel younger and girlier. They seem so insignificant, but if they were taken away, we wouldn’t be very smiley or happy. It really is the little things that can make you feel better or if taken away, worse. They all add up in such a big way. They make up so much of us and we don’t even realize it.
Now I truly do believe that my life lesson is to pay attention to those I love yous, those favorite jeans, those daisies, pink fingernails, and sunshine. Pay attention to those little things. Something could happen where those little things could be taken away, but if you actually pay attention to them, at least you have the memory. At least you took the time to say, Hey, this, this is something worth living for. My advice to you is to go smell the daisies, lounge around in jeans and paint your fingernails, go play in the sunshine. Most importantly, when someone says I love you, don’t just automatically say it back. Think about what you’re saying and actually mean it. Go have fun and notice all those little things that make up our crazy lives. It’s the little things that count. Who knew a four year old could teach you so much?
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