The Stolen Ball

I've always been mesmerized by the idea of stealing. Not in the illegal sense, but in an abstract way, it can be applied to life. How we steal people's moments, feelings, ideas, and even identities. To steal is a complex word, filled with both harmful and good connotations, depending on the context.

[Image]
(https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-bowling-sports-bowling-ball-6712896/)

One of my earliest experiences with stealing was during my childhood. I must have been around ten or eleven years old. It was during the holidays, and my friends and I were playing in the playground near our vicinity. We had a routine: first, we would play the whooping game, and finally, we would go to the junction to buy a plate of ice cream.

On this very day, as we were playing, I saw a shiny red ball lying near the bushes.

It was so bright and attractive, and I just felt like playing with it. Without thinking much, I picked it up and started bouncing it. It felt exciting, almost like I was getting away with something forbidden. I knew the ball belonged to someone else, but at that moment, I felt like it was my own.

As I was bouncing the ball, a feeling of guilt started creeping in. I knew I had taken something that was not mine, and it did not feel right. I glanced around, half expecting to see if someone would be looking for their lost ball. But the park was empty, apart from my friends, who were engaged in their games.

I argued with myself for a while, not sure what to do.

"Should I keep the ball and enjoy it, or should I return it and risk getting scolded?"

Eventually, my conscience got the better of me, and I decided to do the right thing.

I walked over to the ice cream stand, where I knew the park keeper usually sat and asked him if anyone had reported a lost ball.

"Hello, sir, I saw this there, and I don't know who kept it there."

"No, my dear."

He smiled kindly and said no one had. I handed him the ball, feeling a mix of relief and sadness.

I learned a practical lesson that day: that stealing something, even as small as a ball, can leave a mark on your conscience. It's not merely about taking a ball; it's about taking away someone else's sense of security and their trust in the world.

As I grew older, I acknowledged that stealing can take many forms in life. Sometimes, we steal moments of happiness from others by being selfish or thoughtless. Other times, we steal opportunities from ourselves because we are too afraid to take risks or try new things.

But stealing can also be a positive influence. We can steal inspiration from anything around us, using it to fuel our creativity and fascination. It can come directly or indirectly from people. We can also steal moments of joy from everyday life, cherishing them as special gifts.

I told my mom about the experience, and she told me that sometimes we need to get to the point where we understand something without being told.

"That was the first stage of your maturity."

"first stage?"

I asked, and she said yes, the humans have this thing called the conscience that does not allow them to mess up anyhow.

After everything, I've come to see stealing as something very complicated and multifaceted. It's not constantly black and white, and its implications can vary depending on the condition. But one thing is certain: it's a word that can make us contemplate our acts and the effect they have on the world around us.