A little boy once told me that he planned to travel the world with just two pairs of pants, two t-shirts, a pair of binoculars, and a jug of pulp-free orange juice. Of course, back then I didn’t know better, so I oohed and ahhed at his daringness and knowledge and as he told me wild stories about tigers and sharks and birds that could talk, and together we played adventure on the wooden play set in my small shaded backyard. It wasn’t long after that I also began to wonder about the world outside my own and all the places I had yet to visit. I began planning imaginary trips to the rainforest and the arctic and even the moon, but always struggled to decide what to bring. Would I need an extra pair of purple fuzzy socks or would I rather have a pair of cool sparkly sneakers? Would I want to carry a big slice of chocolate cake or should I go with a nice coloring book and crayons? It seemed to me that I would never be prepared enough or satisfied with what I carried in the bright pink knapsack I had already set out for the future journey that awaited me.
As I grew, my imagination grew as well, only making me more eager to go out and explore the world beyond what I already knew. Somewhere out there, there were trees that reached up into the clouds and waterfalls that hid crystal caves behind curtains of cold, gushing water. Cheetahs would chase the wind across the golden plains and dolphins would leap through the air above their rippling reflections that mirrored the blueness of the spacious ocean sky. But the question still was: what should I bring?
I could never decide which of my possessions was most important to me. I never understood what it meant to value something above all others; I loved them all and I loved them equally. My mother always told me I was disorganized and constantly scolded me for not cleaning my room. But I did! I really did! I even made labels with red construction paper and washable markers for each of my drawers that went in this exact order from top to bottom: my stuff, my things, my toys, and my things that glitter. I never knew what might come in handy and couldn’t bring myself to part with things, so I just kept them all. “That one’s a keeper!” I would say, pointed to a pile of metallic chewing gum wrappers, followed by “And that juice box. And that deflated yellow balloon. Oh, and that half eaten ice cream cone!” In the end, I had too many things I felt I had to bring when I left for my journey and every corner and pocket of my bright pink knapsack was jam packed, filling it to the point of bursting. I believe I was six when I finally ventured out into the unknown.
My first trip was to the zoo, but not in the way people normally visit the zoo. I was going to explore all the animals and personally meet with them to learn and live their ways. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I swear I knew what I was doing. At home I had a book about a snapping turtle named Caddy, so I figured I would go meet the turtles first. After all, I was a self-determined expert on turtle behavior. As I skimmed along the edge of the zoo with my butterfly binoculars and yellow flowery sun dress, I heard a low growling noise that could only mean one thing: lions! Ecstatic, I leapt through the bushes and scrambled over a tall iron railing and jumped to find myself right in the middle of a large enclosure. It was lion territory. Brushing myself off lightly like a skilled explorer, I lifted my binoculars to my face and felt like I had been transported to the dusty African plains. The tall dried grass near a stout, shady tree quivered like the whiskers on a mouse and I immediately took off towards it, as fast and swift as the wind. I was sure I’d find a lion there. When I finally reached the patch of tall grass that I had spotted just moments ago, I carefully tiptoed over to the area where the sighted lion was supposed to be. I imagined a lazy flaxen lion with a giant bushy mane, king of the pride, to be laying in the grass enjoying a nice long sunbath underneath the warm afternoon rays. Now, I was aware of how many teeth lions had in their mouth, but I figured I could handle it. After all, it would surely recognize me as a friend and only use its teeth to give me a huge jaunty smile and invite me into his home. Except when I peered over the tall grass that nearly reached my eyebrows, I shrieked in terror. I had not landed in lion territory. I was on crocodile land.
Nothing had prepared me for an encounter like this. I wasn’t exactly afraid, I just never thought I’d meet a crocodile face to face. I panicked and quickly inspected my surroundings a second time, this time taking note of the large swampy lake just beyond the stout, shady tree, which was bordered by a large grove of jungle vegetation. Not good. The crocodile stared back at me with piercing eyes the color of a full moon on Halloween night and smacked its raw, scaly lips that were lined on top and bottom with pearly white daggers. I jumped back from the grass and bolted for the railing I had come down from. But from this side, deep down in the crocodile cage, there was no way out; the bars were too high. Seeing no other option, I speedily slid my over-stuffed fluorescent knapsack from my aching back and hoisted it onto my lap as the zipper snapped and its contents came pouring out. An empty perfume bottle. A broken candy necklace. A stuffed teddy bear with a missing button eye. No, that wouldn’t do. I stuffed my sweaty hand and rummaged through the mountain of chaos, glancing back at the quivering grass a several yards in front of me all the while. Floss. A broken alarm clock. A sticker pack with colorful birds that said “Great job!” and “Well done!” No no no. At last, I came to my the last item hidden in the very depths of the bag’s compartment. A picture book. About a snapping turtle. A snapping turtle named Caddy.
Now, I’m not quite sure how I came up with this and I have no idea how it worked, but with all the courage I could muster, I got up and gingerly made my way over to the resting crocodile. Apart from quivering, the crocodile really hadn’t done much else. I was beginning to wonder if the crocodile was maybe shivering out of cold or sadness, but I wasn’t really sure. I gently brushed the ground and sat down under the stout, shady tree, clearing my throat before opening my book and reading out loud. “Once upon a time, there was a snapping turtle named Caddy. Caddy liked to swim.” I continued on like this for what seemed like hours and hours, never daring to look up and check to see if the crocodile was actually paying attention. At last, I came to the end. This book made me happy. “And then Caddy turned off the lights and said good night. Theeee end.”
“Honey, that was very brave of you,” a voice said from around the tree. I looked up to see a man with a bushy brown mustache looking down at me with a friendly smile and crinkles in the corners of his eyes. I could tell he was a kind man. His badge told me he was the “Croc Keeper.” “You know,” he continued in a slightly amused tone, “Jasper there is pretty old and his hearing isn’t very good anymore. He’s actually sleeping right now. Did you know that crocodiles have transparent eyelids? That’s why it looks like their eyes are always open!”
“Really?” I asked in awe, suddenly not so afraid of the dormant creature that quivered in the grass before me. “Is Jasper dangerous?”
“Only if you hurt or scare him, but you did the right thing. You should never provoke a crocodile, especially if it’s awake.”
I nodded my head fervently and felt quite proud of myself for knowing how to handle such a scary creature. I knew I would make a good explorer and proved so with my ever-so-prepared bright pink knapsack. With a picture book and a bit of courage, I could handle anything. You never know what things might come in handy.
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