I've Put on Band-Aids Since 2008

    Lara, a 16 year-old girl, is coming home from school one day.  

I once sat down on a park bench next to an old man reading a newspaper in Mandarin. My eyes were red from crying, and I didn't have any tissues left. Cursed emotions made me use them all up. All I wanted was to go home and cuddle up in a cozy blanket on the couch with a Netflix show. But, then, mom would see me and scold me for getting my hopes up. Again. 

     "Ever since the school announced we could submit our ideas to the science fair, I'd imagined winning first place and being able to speak in front of the entire grade – not to mention some notable local professors and scientists! I mean, golly, what an opportunity that would be. I'd use big, fancy words and not even need the script, 'cause I'd memorize the whole thing. And mom and dad would be so proud, and then they'd take me to dinner at Fleur de Sea, and we'd eat the most amazing chocolate-caramel lava cake, because who doesn't love a good lava cake –"

     He handed me a tissue. It looked a bit crumpled, like it had been in his pocket since last week's lunch at the McDonald's, but it was the sweetest thing ever.

     "It's ok, sir, I appreciate it. I'm fine. I'm so happy, in fact. You see? Not even crying." He looked at me with a warm smile that reached the crow's feet on his eyes. "It's such a shame. That lava cake would've been really good, I'm sure."

     I'd been speaking aloud the whole time. Great. Just great. I took the tissue in defeat. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said ... that, out loud." I thought for a moment. "You know, my mom often tells me I get my hopes up too much." 

     "Aiyah, you youngsters work so hard these days. Always achieving great things, but you never stop to enjoy what you've already done. Maybe you should be in the present more, hm?" He wasn't really scolding me. He almost looked amused. I couldn't help but chuckle.

     "I've never thought of it like that," I finally said. I played with my chipping nail polish, a bit embarrassed. We sat there like that in silence for a few minutes. It was nice and quiet. Even my brain seemed to become radio silent with the swirling of ideas and dreams and excitement and constant flutters of relentless hope.

     He cleared his throat in the funny way all grandparents seem to do. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you keep reaching too high? Don't you think you'll fall off the ladder if you do?"

     "Because I know I'll always put on a Band-Aid where I'm hurt and get back up again."