THE TIN DRUM!

'When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be?
Will I be pretty, Will I be rich, This is what she said to me...
Que Sera Sera, whatever will be, will be
The future's not our's to see
Que Sera Sera, What will be, will be'

Softly, softly, oh ever so softly, the refrain plays in my ear, like a soothing lullaby. Like a gentle reminder of a little girl I once knew. This song is as much a part of my childhood as are pixies, elves, gnomes, spells, hot scones, muffins, 'tuck' boxes! And all of these are magic keys. Each one of them can unlock that treasure chest in my mind. Memories.

Memories?

Or are they? Memories are recollections of a time gone by. This 'little treasure chest' is not that. This is the haven where I seek refuge in times of turmoil, in times of hurt, times when the 'grown-up' world just starts getting to me. Times when I wish I hadn't wished that I'd grow up quickly.

Or maybe it is just the little girl in me, who one day found herself in the 'land of grown-ups' atop the Far-Away Tree. Oh how she wished she had paid heed to her mother! Why had she been so curious to see what the adult world was like? Why, why, oh why had she not waited for time to take her to that land. Now she didn't know how to go on in this strange land. The land where she had the means to do anything she wanted, but had lost the will. She doubted herself, she acknowledged constraints, she realised there were things which were beyond her capacity.

Beyond her capacity? Whatever had happened to her? There was a time when she had only to close her eyes and make a wish. Just when along the way, had she been introduced to the word 'impossible'?

Once she saw only the boundless sky, now she had begun to notice the horizon where the sky ended.

The 'little girl' still lives. Still in the 'land of grown-ups', she found a way to remain a child. Like the boy from 'the tin drum', she refused to grow up.