There was this little girl. She was a brave, talented little girl who was into more things than most people of her age.
Everybody knows of her strength, her joyfulness, and her ability to love immensely even at her young age. But not everyone can tell that she loved, of all things, her favorite roller blades.
The roller blades were really colorful. Whenever she’d wear them, everybody saw the side of her which she doesn’t show everyday. People said it looked most amazing on her than on anybody else. She loved the pair, took care of them, gave a special place for them.
For years, she had kept them in her possession - wearing it during the best moments of her life. But in all those moments, she knew in her heart that her favorite pair was still never the perfect pair.
She often went home with blisters and scratches. Sometimes, she’d be afraid she might sprain herself if she moved too fast. They were beautiful, but it caused her a lot of pain as well. She knew she always had to be careful - always on-guard. Any moment she felt like she wanted to run wild, the roller blades limited her and she had to ride still and steady. When she wanted to dare a little more, she was immediately reminded to be extra careful.
The exhaustion after wearing it was often unbearable for a little girl like her. So, she chose, instead, to keep it in a special place in her closet. She said she didn’t have to wear them anymore if they were too painful. But she never wanted to let go of such beauty.
She never wanted to get rid of it. Her fear was that she would never find any pair as wonderful, or any pair better. She would remember that this pair was worth a fortune. She gave up a lot to have it, let go of so many things to keep it, and sacrificed a whole lot of pain for it. It would be safe to say she wanted to keep it forever - and she will always have a million reasons to do so.
So she kept it in a special place, but did not wear it anymore.
After quite some time, she went back to it, excited to try it out again. Instead, she noticed how much she had outgrown the pair which was also dusty and no longer maintained. She tried to make it fit again, but to no avail. She tried cleaning it, but the colors were already dull.
Was this pair worth keeping?
Do we still keep the things we know we could outgrow? No matter how much we love them, do we still stick to the things that limit us?
The little girl chose to keep them, but she knew she could never have them the same way again.