Little Henry's Little Hands

When Henry was a little boy, he had to make his own toys out of clay. There was very little else in that small, poor farming village where he lived, but there was always plenty of fresh, wet clay there lying about. He'd spend his days happily shaping glorified mud into jet fighters and war tanks and little men with guns. He'd wait patiently until his little figurine army dried under the sun. And with zest only childhood innocence could bring, he'd immerse himself in his own imaginary world playing his own version of some good-versus-evil war game for hours and hours on end. He'd have so much fun.

When play time was over, he'd gather up his little clay creations and hide them in some part of their small house where he thinks his mother wouldn't find them.

But she always found them.

And everytime she did, she would scold little Henry with such reprimanding authority as if her little boy maimed the village elder's favorite rooster, before throwing away his precious earthen miniatures into the neighborhood garbage pit. He would always beg her not to. He'd cry and cry and cry and pull on her skirt and cry some more. But she would never change her mind.

Those were the only toys little Henry had. And he had to make them all with his own little hands. He never really understood why. Except that she said they were dirty.

But then little Henry would do it again -- spend days shaping wet, dirty clay to make himself a new set of the only precious toys he knew. Play his war games as far away from his mother's house as he could go so she would not see him. Learn to find new hiding places where the only source of his simple happiness would be safe from her.

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The story above was written and posted in Facebook seven (7) years ago.
https://www.facebook.com/notes/michael-estarez/little-henrys-little-hands/417227925822/

I was still relatively newly arrived in Canada then -- still mindful of my rough upbringing in the most rural parts of a poor country, yet ever so looking forward to a better future as a landed immigrant with the most promising career prospects in the field of technology laying right in front of me.

Now, ten years after stepping into what I thought was a better life, brushing shoulders with tech giant CEOs, matching wits against the best of what Toronto's tech startup community has to offer, making and blowing millions on behalf of various venture capital investors, all I can think about is to go back home, start a farm, get-off-the-grid, and live a simple, quiet life away from this dream-come-true delusion.

This blog will talk about introversion, self-reliance, life, the lessons therein, the choices we make, the paths we follow, and the aspirations we all have but never seem to fully realize.

My name is Michael and I am looking forward to connect with like-minded people in this community.

I will tell you more. I will write everything down. Follow me to hear the stories.