Rumeenations: Looking for lupines

As an almost high school graduate, I like to think that I have changed from my five-year-old self—and hopefully for the better. I’m starting to realize, however, that that’s not necessarily the case.

The other day, I was going through my mom’s reserve of my brother’s and my artwork and projects from when we were kids. Amidst the bent papers of abstract crayon scribbles, handmade pop-up birthday cards, and half-finished friendship bracelets, I found a tattered, yellowing book that caused my nostalgia levels to reach an all-time high: Miss Rumphius, my favorite childhood picture book.

Despite its elementary target, Barbara Cooney’s masterpiece taught me one of the most valuable lessons I have learned to date. Her book details the life of Miss Rumphius, The Lupine Lady, who strives to make the world a more beautiful place by planting lupine flowers everywhere she goes.

Every time I read those 28 pages as a little kid, Cooney’s simple yet profound words inspired me to find my own version of a lupine and share it with the world. As a naïve child, there were no limits to how each of us could make our mark on the world: I dreamed of saving lives with superpowers, going to outer space and discovering a new planet, becoming Doctor Dolittle’s star disciple, and inventing time travel.

As I reread the delicate pages of Miss Rumphius, I could not help but momentarily revel in the unwavering certitude that we had when we were younger. Now, I’m not even sure what I want to major in as I prepare to enter college, let alone what my lupine is and how I will find it.

Granted, we have more questions to answer as we grow up. Our parents ask us how we will support ourselves as independent adults. Our teachers ask us how we will apply ourselves and our education. And we ask ourselves who we are and who we aim to be.

At this point, however, I wouldn’t mind regressing to my five-year-old state of mind. Just as Cooney’s words motivated me 12 years ago, they continue to comfort me now. Miss Rumphius reminded me that one’s age isn’t a justification for lacking that childlike sense of wonderment.

There may be more to worry about now that we are older, but there is just as much to dream about. Putting limits on our aspirations is what causes us to feel like we are aging. So, despite all of my uncertainty about the future, at least I know that I can find some constancy in my goal to discover my lupine.

 This piece was originally published in the pages of the Winged Post on March 12, 2014.