Jeremiah took a deep breath. It was his turn next, and he was very nervous.
"Jeremiah!" Ms. Lapierre called.
Jeremiah took a step forward, ready to advance to the stage, when he took a look at the many faces in the audience. A glimpse at a man who reflected Jeremiah’s own sharp features (large nose, slanted eyes, tiny mouth), made Jeremiah balk. In an instant, Jeremiah was running far, far away.
Jeremiah’s running progressed to a speedy pitter-patter, as he advanced to an empty corridor. It was near the janitor’s closet - safe. Jeremiah examined the space until he spotted a groove, an indent in the wall. He advanced, and saw where the janitor’s mop and water bucket would usually be, but wasn’t. Jeremiah quickly situated himself, drawing his legs to his chest.
Failure - it was the one word that plagued him.
Two weeks ago, three of the best fifth graders were chosen to give a presentation about themselves. THEMSELVES. As if any fifth grader had anything worthy to say, ha!So for the past week Jeremiah tried and tried to find SOMETHING to speak about; whether it was a possible achievement, or a goal he had for the future. But alas, nothing. All Jeremiah realized was that he was a carbon copy of his father. Only, his father was SUCCESSFUL. He had already become the firefighter Jeremiah wanted to be. He had also eaten 15 pieces of chocolate in one sitting, (which Jeremiah had attempted to do once, but thrown back up). More importantly, he had definitely kissed a girl, something Jeremiah could only dream of.
There seemed to be nothing Jeremiah could say for himself. Heck, even Jeremiah’s name came from his father!
Jeremiah put his head down.
"Jeremiah?"
Jeremiah groaned. He only buried his head deeper into his arms.
"Hey buddy."
Jeremiah only looked up because of his father’s insistent tone.
"What’s wrong? You just left," his father said, being Mr. Obvious.
If only Jeremiah weren’t so desperate, he wouldn’t have blurted out,
"Me! That’s what’s wrong!"
"Me! That’s what’s wrong!"
"What do you mean?"
Jeremiah’s father now had a frown on his face.
Jeremiah’s father now had a frown on his face.
Jeremiah took in a deep breath, and said,
"I don’t have anything special. Everything unique about me has already been done by you," and then Jeremiah shook his head in revelation. "Even if they haven’t been done by you, they’ve been done by somebody else! I could land on the moon and it wouldn’t matter. I’d have nothing to say about me, nothing to tell."
Jeremiah finished off with a deep breath, certainly not expecting his father to burst out in laughter.
"Jeremiah! Let me show you something!"
His father pulled out two lighters and proceeded to light them.
"Look! Don’t they look the same?" Jeremiah’s father asked.
Jeremiah scrunched his face up in annoyance.
"Aren’t they? They’re just flames!" Jeremiah pouted.
"That’s what you think; look, look!" Jeremiah’s father pulled Jeremiah closer. Soon after, Jeremiah’s face was so close to the flames, he thought he might catch fire.
“Look," his father said once more. "Don’t they flicker differently? Aren’t they different sizes?"
Jeremiah bit his lip. “Yeah,” he said.
Suddenly Jeremiah’s father shut the lighters and threw them into his pocket.
"Just cause every human being looks the same from far away doesn’t mean we aren’t unique! You don’t have to do something no one has done before buddy! I mean, well, you CAN if you really want to, but that doesn’t make someone great, or not great. It doesn’t give people something to say or not to say. Who wants to listen to someone brag all day anyway?" his father winked.
Jeremiah was silent in thought.
"You-," Jeremiah’s father continued, shoving his finger to Jeremiah’s chest, "-are the greatest story ever told."
Jeremiah opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t because he had nothing to say. He got it. How had he not realized before? No one’s story was any less than another’s, just as it wasn’t any greater.
He settled for “thanks dad,” and stood up.
Everyone’s story was the greatest because they were made up of the individual’s separate qualities, not their accomplishments.
Jeremiah was the greatest flame of his own beautiful lighter. The greatest story in his own appointed role and space.
Jeremiah was the greatest flame of his own beautiful lighter. The greatest story in his own appointed role and space.
"Better?" Jeremiah’s dad asked.
"Yeah," Jeremiah smiled.
He squared his shoulders.
The world better be ready.
Imported from tumblr; originally posted on 04/22/14
CHARM✌참
