As a child, growing up in a small town, in Indiana, imagination went a long way. I would lay in my bed at night in imagine myself to be a branch on a tree’s shadow; moving on my bedroom wall. The roaches that invaded my small apartment, occupied by myself and 8 other family members, became less of a nuisance and more of my friends. I was a lonely child; feeling left out became an adventure like I was a thirsting cactus in a desert, rather than a weird kid who just couldn’t find the cue to jump in.
So as one can imagine, when a day came along that the “average” person would celebrate with fun and food, I would drift off to my own world. In this imaginary St. Patty’s day world, I would stare out of my Elementary school door, while the teacher would teach, and watch for the leprechaun to appear. I longed to see him and possibly get a taste of what everyone else was feeling. I’d lay on my folded arms and pray to God that he would appear so that life could appear more real to me. Maybe then, I could belong.
He would come wobbling side to side with a pot of gold, just for me. A rainbow would appear and I would shout out to my teacher,” I spotted the leprechaun.” Everyone would have been so proud of me and cheer me on until the end of the school year! I would share my treasure with the entire class, since I couldn’t bring any treats.
The leprechaun never showed, but to this day, every St. Patty’s day, I wait and wait for my rainbow and pot of gold.