So much of what I am today can be attributed to something seemingly insignificant when I was growing up. My tiny, uncomfortable twin bed covered in Sesame Street bed sheets and comforter was pushed against the wall. The headboard had some shelves and one distinct thing about it was the night light that sat on the upper left shelf. Inside the thing of porcelain was some kind of pretend house for some family of make believe animals. The front door was always open and there were little holes on the roof from which a small light, when turned on, always protruded onto the back and sides of the headboard. Depending upon how I moved the light it could project a different pattern onto the surround wood, similar to what can be done with life’s opportunities.
Assume, first of all, that opportunity is signified by the small incandescent bulb and that the outcome of each opportunity is represented by how the light touches everything else. If the light is never switched on then nothing will ever change. There’s no reference point and nothing to go by… no measure of what is or what could be. Even if the light is on — meaning the opportunity has presented itself — most of the possibility is contained inward, escaping only through the small holes. What does leak out is a symbol of what others can see, and is ever-changing as I move through life. Sometimes a tweak here can shut everyone out, but a tweak there can reveal more about me than I could feasibly express in as many words.
I wouldn’t call it as much of a struggle as I would a journey in becoming the person I want to be. The miniscule changes in perspective affect all aspects of my persona. From the way I interpret others to the ways they may interpret me. All I can hope for is when I have the chance to adapt into a better person that sense of opportunity hasn’t disappeared.