I remember some days of my childhood so vividly and especially the things my father said to me. They never made any sense back then.
I would feel frustrated and angry and almost like he did not love me!I remember I was three back then. I had just found my expression... the ability to put my feelings into coherent sentences.I ran up to my father in the middle of a sunday afternoon.
As he sat devouring every page of the weekend news... sipping his tea... and I said:"Papa, I am getting bored."He was certainly taken in by surprise not knowing where the word "bored"came into my limited vocabulary from.
His face... flushed with the most incredible smile I ever saw on a man, lit up as he said: "Then go find something to do my dear because this is the only time ever that you will find it."It is only now, as a parent myself that I understand the meaning of the things my dad said to me.
It is only now that I understand how beautiful afeeling it is to be "bored".For all I am today is because I taught myself the art of getting bored and finding something to do in the process!
