A change

It was a bright and sunny day in the middle of July. I was eleven years old and on summer vacation. As usual, I spent most of my days playing with my friends outside, riding bikes and playing hide and seek. On this particular day, my friends and I were at the park, and we had just finished playing a game of basketball.

As we walked back to our bikes, I noticed an older man sitting on a bench near the playground. He looked to be in his seventies, with white hair and wrinkles around his eyes. He was holding a small notebook and was writing something down. I couldn't help but feel curious about what he was writing, so I walked up to him and asked him what he was doing.

He looked up at me with a smile and said, "I'm writing a poem."

"A poem?" I repeated, not fully understanding what he meant.

"Yes, a poem," he said. "I'm a writer, you see. And I come to this park every day to find inspiration for my writing."

I was fascinated. I had never met a writer before, let alone someone who came to the park every day to write. I asked him if I could see what he was writing, and he handed me his notebook. As I read the words on the page, I was amazed by how beautiful they were. They flowed together like a river, each word leading to the next with ease. I had never read anything like it before.

The man noticed my interest and began to tell me about his life as a writer. He had been writing poetry for over fifty years, he said. He told me about the different places he had traveled to, and the people he had met along the way. He talked about the joys and struggles of writing, and how it had been a constant in his life, even when everything else seemed to be changing.

As I listened to him speak, I began to feel a sense of inspiration stirring within me. I had always enjoyed writing, but I had never taken it seriously. I had never thought of it as something that could be a part of my life in a meaningful way. But as I looked at the man sitting on the bench, pouring his heart and soul onto the page, I knew that I wanted to do the same.

That small moment in the park had a big impact on my life. It was the moment that I realized that writing was not just a hobby, but something that I could pursue with passion and dedication. From that day on, I started carrying a notebook with me wherever I went. I wrote down my thoughts and observations, and I tried my hand at writing my own poems.

As I grew older, my love for writing only grew stronger. I started reading more poetry and literature, and I began to understand the craft of writing in a deeper way. I took writing classes in school, and I even started submitting my work to contests and publications. Writing became a part of my identity, something that I couldn't imagine living without.

Looking back on that small moment in the park, I realize that it was more than just a chance encounter with a stranger. It was a moment of clarity, a moment when I discovered a part of myself that I had never known existed. It was a moment when I realized that I had the power to create something beautiful, something that could impact the world in its own small way.

I would like to advice everyone to change. You never know what is going to happen. It is better to enjoy life, do what you want.