If you think about it, where do bricks come from. They are originally just humble pieces of clay. Put some work into the clay and you get a brick and you can start building. It is very much the same way with our lives.
You are handed over a few bricks beforehand. You have your parents, your family and relatives. That form the base layer of bricks of the building, that one day will become your whole life story. Those handovers were nothing but clay in their own beginning. These first bricks very much dictate, what kind of clay you get to work with and how your bricks are going to form. At least, the very first ones.
How have my clay and bricks been then? Well, I had a lot of clay to play with. Literally and as a form of speech. I had a wonderful and very much sheltered childhood in the countryside. I formed my clay into many things, some of those things, it seems, became bricks in the foundation of my life.
Like the very stubborn clay, that nagged at my parents about becoming a horse. A very own horse for that little girl that was me. The clay kept nagging for two years until it became what it wanted to be. My very first horse has been a very big and significant brick in this building of mine. She directed my life early on very strongly. I could have become a teenager without not much sensible things to do without her. I could have grown into a very different person, than what I am now. I owe a lot to her and am grateful for the chance to have met her.
Another very significant brick in this building could have been many different things. I had again, several pieces of clay to play with. Some would have taken me to university to sturdy biology, or psychology, or languages. The one that formed into a brick took me to a different kind of school. Learning to understand something of business. I am not sure, if I am completely happy with that brick. I think it makes my building stand a little crooked. But who has their corners straight in this life anyways?
Then there is this piece of clay, that originally seemed so very insignificant. Just a small decision to go hiking and long trail, alone, in Lapland. The clay had started a year back, with another hiking trip, and was slowly turning into a more loved piece of clay, that I worked on. During that hike, the clay found somebody else’s piece of work. Maybe rubbed against it a little, leaving pieces behind. I think that became one of the bricks on the front stairs in this building project. The brick that you step on, when you get out, and explore.
That hiking brick might have opened the biggest clay mine of my life. There was someone else digging at the same mine, I noticed before long. There was Waffle, who apparently seemed to like the same kind of clay for building his house from. I guess we collided as we dag deeper. Bricks were formed and eventually they started to stick together and it seems that we are now building a mansion together. Where there is an extensive travel wing. That is what our clay is so often turning into. Bricks telling about travels. I love it. I love the way my Waffle works his clay into something that makes the base layer of our dwelling more and more beautiful.
Thank you Waffle.
What are you building out of your bricks?
For this cheesiness, please thank Daily Prompt: Brick