Cars

I’m watching my 3 year old son sprawled on the floor with an ocean of toy cars of different colors and sizes. He scratches his head as if trying to decide which one he would pick then glances at me and asks me “Mommy which one?” I stare back at him and was tempted to say “the red one” or the “big yellow one”, but before I could open my mouth, he blurts out “this one nalang” then grabs a blue plastic corvette with one wheel missing and hugs the tiny toy and smiles a smile of adoration “this is my favorite”.


I wish life was as simple as choosing which toy car am I going to play with today. Will I look at the color? It’s make? How new is it? How expensive it is? Or will I choose the old beaten up one? The one missing a wheel?

How I wish people would also look at me based on my worth, my value and not how I look, how firm and flawless I am or how popular I am. Well, it’s a wish. If people were the opposite I wouldn’t be wishing.

As sceptic as I may seem to be, I still haven’t given up. There will be someone out there like my 3 year old son. Someone who will see past through the physical and the obvious and see the comfort and familiarity of choosing the old battered, beaten but reliable, tried and tested car.

Just don’t take that long to notice and decide, I might be taken out with the garbage.