Have I ever gone to some place to search for gold beneath the rainbow? Maybe I have. Or maybe not.
But I can still remember the time when I looked at a mountain so far away that its peak touched the clouds. And yet, it felt so close—right behind the school I used to attend. So I decided to go there, to the back of the school.
I wasn’t there right away; I don’t quite remember why. But the next morning, as soon as I woke up, I rushed to the back of the school. There, I found a house belonging to people I didn’t know. Nothing about that place resembled what I imagined a mountain to be. I really wished it was the mountain I had seen from afar, but it turned out to be just my imagination.
Now, whenever I see a mountain, I still remember that feeling: something that seems so close can actually be very far away. And most things in this world are like that—even our dreams.
Some people want to be astronauts, presidents, and so many other things. But it doesn’t always have to be those fancy titles. Even becoming something simple that we truly desire can feel distant. Sometimes fate just doesn’t trust us to be those people. Instead, it picks something else for us and places it on our heads like a hat.
I’ve often wondered what kind of hat fate would give me. Would it be a colorful, pointy one with a ball at the tip? A green one? Something made of straw? Or just the simplest one, meant only to protect me from the sun?
Now that I’m older, I realize I already have one. I’m not entirely sure what shape it takes, but it’s enough to shield me from the sun. I just have to hold on to it tightly when the wind blows—especially when it rains.
I guess this kind of hat is the best one for me. I choose to wear only this one, as a part of my identity. This hat is all I have—and all I want.