PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Before I was old enough to go to school, I watched my four older siblings leave every morning, coming back in the afternoon with intricate stories of dinosaurs and math equations. I remember begging my mother to play school with me while they were gone. My first classroom was the living room sofa, where my mother and I spent hours tackling a world of wonder that needed answers. I would have done anything to spend my whole life on that couch.

My transition from a warm living room sofa into the cold plastic desk chair of elementary school, filled with strange smells and used pencils, was rough. Every morning was World War Two, and everyone in school could hear me scream, from the parking lot through the hallways until at least 20 minutes after the bell rang. I would have done anything to spend my whole life on that couch.

The tables turned slowly, as I realized how much more I could learn when I opened my ears to new voices. Evenings on the couch became 90 miles an hour of stories about my day. I’m sure my mother was an expert on the solar system, rainforests, Christopher Columbus, and anything I could possibly remember from the past seven hours. I couldn’t leave anything out, my only dream was to learn everything there was to know, and tell mom all about it. I remember people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I’d make up some spiel about veterinary or firefighting, when I knew deep down that I’d do anything to spend my whole life on that couch.

The tables continued to turn as I grew older, when I learned how to doubt. I learned that people lie. I learned that books are written by people. I learned that teachers are students. I learned that there are questions nobody can answer, while some can be answered several ways but still be true. I learned that logic is almost always inductive, and induction is not proof. I learned the texture of a new couch, a new home, a new school. I learned that the world is infinite. I learned that my learning couch could be a bench in the park, passenger seat in the car, or a patch in the grass. It didn’t matter where I was, it mattered who I was. I learned it is impossible to be all-knowing, but it is very possible to follow a dream. There will always be an open seat somewhere, with a whole new world to share, and I will spend the rest of my life on that couch.