Outgrowing

The little boy was lying in bed with his head nestled against his soft pillow. The fan shifted back and forth, ruffling the edges of his blanket with its cool breeze. He stared up at the plain white ceiling and felt small. He was too minute in his body, in his bed, in this world. His brain was mushy and slow and his muscles ached. The blanket was too hot. and so he kicked and thrashed his way out of it. Frustration filled his little head. He didn’t fit. He stretched his feet, tensing the muscles in his calves. A yawn escaped. He was tired but he couldn’t sleep.

The boy rolled over on his side and slid his arm under his pillow. His hand jammed against the headboard of his bed and he scooted until he was free. Only now, his feet hung over the edge of his bed. He tucked his legs toward his body and curled into a ball. Something wasn’t right about him. He was full of unrest and dissatisfaction, a feeling of not belonging in his own skin. His brain was foggy and confused and so he rolled over once again onto his back and in doing so hit his head against the headboard. Why didn’t he fit? The boy sat up and flung his legs over the edge of his bed and his feet hit the floor. He fumbled for the cup of water on his nightstand and nearly knocked it over. The darkness played tricks with his eyes. He drank the water in an instant as if it were a mere sip.

The walls of his room were pressing in all around him. He didn’t fit here anymore. The boy got out of bed and put on a jacket and slippers. The normally comfortable hoodie felt tight and confining. He looked around his room at all his things and felt nothing. What was the point of his toys and his clothes and his games. None of them seemed to fit anymore.

He left his house and began walking down the street. He paused and looked back at his home. It seemed so small now, as though it were a doll house. He couldn’t live there anymore. What about his mom and dad? Could they still love him? He wouldn’t forget them but he had outgrown them.

The street he had grown up on and spent his whole life on seemed so tiny. There was a whole world to explore. He walked away from his neighborhood and with each step he took it got smaller and smaller. He could see the mountains in the distance and even they appeared small to him. He looked all around him and saw the ocean and the city and the long, long roads. But it was all too small for him. And so he looked upward towards the sky.

He had his head in the clouds and felt the cool mist. The stars awaited him. He took a deep breath and felt the gentle breeze of a sleeping world. He finally started to feel okay. As he looked down at the earth he stretched his hand and could almost hold it all in his palm. His friends and family and house and things all seemed to fade as would a dream upon awakening. He had loved it all but he had grown too much and no longer fit in. But there was quiet now. And sleep.

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Outgrowing was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.