Once upon a time there lived a boy who
was the most spirited of sorts. Every day, from morning til dusk he spent his
hours exploring the forests or running through fields of dandelions and lilies
that grew wild near his home. Within the forests a small stream flowed that was
full of brim and trout that turned the waters a soft pinkish hue, so great were
their numbers. With his fishing rod resting atop one shoulder and a bag of
fresh bait draped over the other, the boy frequently enjoyed many summer
afternoons sitting beside the cool waters while the biting fish provided a
day's entertainment.
One day, while reeling in an especially
large trout, the boy was startled by uproarious laughter just upstream.
Forgetting his fishing gear on the river bank, he walked in the direction of
the laughter to discover an old man splashing about in the rushing waters. The
old man lifted and kicked his legs high in the air, his arms flailing about
uncontrollably while his long, white beard twirled around him like a cotton
tornado. He was dancing, but more than dancing, he was laughing, smiling, and
shouting praises to heaven for reasons the boy knew not. But as the boy drew
closer, his presence was spotted and the old man ceased his celebration,
instead looking only at the boy who stared at him with an inquisitive smile.
"Your
laughter can be heard far down the river bank," the boy said, still
wondering at the reason for the old man's jubilee. "Why are you so
happy?"
The old man's laughter momentarily
subsided but his smile was no less broad.
"My happiness comes from the rare
pleasure that only a man of many years can feel, for I have found something I
once thought lost forever...something I lost when I was only a child such as
yourself." The old man motioned for the boy to come near, which he did
with curious trepidation.
"Found something?" the boy
repeated. "You men like a big trout that you have been fishing for in this
stream?"
"No, no my child. Something far
more valuable. Here, look for yourself."
The old man held out his hand to reveal
his prize, a gold coin that sparkled and shone bright in the afternoon sun. Its
surface had been polished smooth by the stream's running waters so that one
side bore the old man's reflection while the other showed the boy's. Both
stared at the coin in awe until the old man finally said, "Years and years
ago, so many that my mind can no longer recall, I lost my gold coin in his very
stream. My heart was broken at its loss and never again did I believe I would
find it, but I have spent a lifetime searching for it, only to have finally
found it today!"
He laughed again, but seeing how the
young boy's face glowed with excitement at the mere sight of such a coin, the
old man did the most curious thing. He kneeled down in the running waters to
look the boy in the eyes, extended his hand and said, "My years are many,
and soon all my worldly possessions will sift through my fingers like the sands
through an hourglass. What good are gold and riches to those who have not the
time left to enjoy them? I know what I shall do. I shall give my treasure to
you my child, that you may reap the rewards of this gold coin in ways I never
did. I give you this gold coin, to have and to hold."
The old man placed the coin within the
boy's open palm as he stared in amazement at the unexpected gift.
"But I do not deserve this
coin," the boy protested.
"No, you don't," the old man
conceded. "It is a gift. Treasure it, be thankful for it, enjoy it...but
never, ever lose it; for once such a treasure is lost, it will not be easily
replaced. Once this treasure is lost, you will spend all the days of your life
searching for it again, only to find not the gold coin you were looking for,
but instead a lifetime of regret."
The boy looked again at the coin which
felt light in his hand. "What does an old man like you know about
loss?" he asked.
The corners of the old man's mouth
lifted, but only momentarily as his smile soon surrendered to a more somber
expression. "Youth has the power of optimism, for boys and young men
believe that, much like the running waters we now stand in, there will be
always be a stream of never-ending gold coins to fill their purse. But older
men know that such streams eventually run dry, and once a gold coin is lost, a
man may spend his entire life in search of another, only to find that his
treasure is forever gone."
"I don't understand," the boy
replied.
"I pray you never have to,"
the old man said, and with that he stepped out of the river onto the muddy
banks to walk some deserted path that led into the forest. The boy watched him
walk deeper into the woods until at last the old man disappeared.
For the next several days the boy was
inseparable from his newly acquired gold coin. He spent countless hours
polishing it to ensure it maintained its mirrored gleam and would often hold it
within his hand wherever he went to ensure that it was not lost. But as time
passed, these routines became less frequent, his treasure became less prized,
until at last the gold coin was discarded somewhere deep within his trouser
pockets where it remained lost and forgotten.
Months passed until one day the boy
ventured near the stream again for an afternoon of fishing. Though normally he
reeled in several large trout before nightfall, fortune had not been kind this
day and the hours passed without even a single bite. Induced by boredom, the
boy began collecting stones from the riverbed, some placed in his pockets while
others he sent skipping across the stream. With pockets now full, he reached
inside to find a particularly smooth stone the seemed perfect for skipping. The
boy sent it flying with all his might, watching it skip a dozen times across
the still waters before flashing a brilliant golden glow just as it sink beneath
the surface. Immediately a feeling of dread overcame him as he watched the
golden coin, a treasure he once prized above any other, disappear forever. But
this feeling lasted but an instant, for no sooner had his golden coin been lost
than the boy decided to walk upstream just a bit so that he might find the old
man and persuade him to replace his gold coin with another, perhaps even one
that was more beautiful still.
For hours the boy waited. He waited
until the last rays of sunlight finally disappeared beneath the horizon, yet
still the old man did not arrive.
"Oh well," the boy thought to
himself. "Some unforeseen business must have delayed his arrival. Surely
he will come tomorrow and I will meet my old friend then."
Tomorrow came, and just as the day
before the boy patiently awaited the old man's arrival at the riverbank. But as
the hours passed in solitude, the boy began growing increasingly anxious. He
unconsciously felt within his pockets, almost expecting to find the gold coin
hidden deep within, before remembering that he had so carelessly tossed it
away. He missed the gold coin, longed for it even, and as another night fell
with no return of either the old man or his beloved coin, the boy could finally
stand his frustration no more and broke down in tears on the bank of that cold,
lonely stream. He wept. He wept all night until he cried himself to sleep.
As the sun crested the morning horizon,
it shone upon a new day...and a new man. Gone was the carefree boy of
yesterday, replaced instead by a man whose maturity was hastened by the pangs
of regret. The boy had grown up, his eyes suddenly opened, and the carefree
frivolity of youth yielded to the true understanding of what he had lost. He
had lost something very precious to him, something he had taken for granted and
foolishly cast aside, and now -- with the advent of wisdom spurred by his pain
-- he realized that he would spend the rest of his life searching for that lost
gold coin.
He searched high and low throughout the stream,
sifting through sand and silt with fingers turned raw by the frequency of this
routine. Days became months, and months turned to years, yet still the man
would not relent, still he would not abandon his search for the coin. In time
the creases of his face deepened, the color of his hair whitened, until at last
he gazed into the stream's reflective waters one day to see a familiar face
staring back at him. It was a face he had not seen in many years, a face he
last saw on that day so long ago when the laughter of an old man had aroused
the curiosity of that boy he once was. But now, as he looked at the face of
that old man in these waters, he realized it was not the face of his friend
that met his gaze, but rather his own, transformed by years of hardship and
loss into a grizzled specter of the boy he once was.
He yelled, cursing the heavens for a
lifetime spent in fruitless pursuit of his gold coin. He pounded his fists into
the riverbed, casting silt and sand high into the air with each frustrated blow
until at last his fingers dug through the soft soil and hit upon something
hard. His eyes widened, his fingertips stopped as they felt upon a surface
smooth as glass that his hands hand not touched in many years. Summoning all
his strength the man grasped firmly around the unseen object and ripped it from
the riverbed, sending a spray of water skyward that sparkled in a thousand tiny
droplets, yet soon gave way to the radiant golden glow of the coin the man held
firmly in his hand. He clutched the coin tightly, holding it close to his chest
so that it pressed snugly against his heart. He cried again, this time tears of
joy, until those tears soon gave way to dancing and laughter that filled the air
with the old man's elation.
"Your laughter can be heard far
down the river bank," a small voice suddenly intruded. "Why are you
so happy?"
The old man turned to see a small boy
who had stumbled upon his celebration. He paused, remembering all those years
before when it was he who had found the curious old man laughing and dancing in
the river.
He smiled and said, "My happiness
comes from the rare pleasures that only a man of many years can feel, for I
have found something I once thought lost forever."
The old man summoned the boy closer and
placed the gold coin within the child's hand.
"Guard this treasure as you would
your heart, that you may never know the pain of losing both...that you will
always remember the joy of this moment, when all you have been looking for your
entire life is finally found."
The old man waded from the waters of the
stream, having found again what he had lost all those years before. A lifetime
of sorrow, a lifetime of struggle, a lifetime of wanting only to be reunited with
his beloved gold coin -- for that opportunity, no matter how brief, he was
willing to sacrifice all. He had found his beloved gold coin again; he had
found what he was looking for...and he was finally happy.
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Ornela,
Over the past several months I have
written you countless letters, but tonight I wanted to write you a story. For a
long time I have simply told you how I feel about you, but by writing you a
story I can show you. The stories that I write you are very personal to me, for
they are showing you a very intimate part of my heart. Stories have always been
my gift to you. When we were together I could never afford to buy you expensive
gifts, or take you on exotic trips, but I could always give you the most cherished
things to me...my stories. I gave you my stories because I always thought they
made you happy, and I just wanted to see you smile.
You are the inspiration for all of my
stories, and in this story you are the gold coin. Just like the boy who became
an old man, I let go of something very dear to me, and once I realized what I
had lost...it was too late. In my case, I let go of someone I love...you
Ornela. Everything I have done since that realization, all of my letters, all
of my stories, all of my actions over the past year have been made in an
attempt to right that wrong. But unlike the story I just wrote, I don't know
how ours will end. I don't know if I will find you again like the old man with
his coin, or if you even want to be found. You see, I am not the author of our
story...we both are. And I hope that you will pick up your pen and write me the
words that are in your heart, just as I have written you the words that are in
mine -- I hope that you will help me tell our story together.
Love,
Bobby
