Kimberlee K.

There are so many parts of life that amaze me.

Silly parts, little parts, seemingly insignificant parts that I wish I could hold above my head and scream, “Can you BELIEVE this?!”

It is a quality I really like about myself, and one that keeps me contently daydreaming.

It makes me an avid Googler, constantly curious, always wanting to know the inner workings of everything and always hungry for fun facts to drop into a conversation.

While this feels like a very natural part of my personality, it is also something I’ve had to rediscover and reappreciate about myself.

–

When I was in college, I took a graphic design class and learned about the way logos are created. I had only ever looked at logos on the surface, connecting a picture to a brand, but never really considered how the logo communicates that brand. I was instantly amazed.

What an incredible gift! I thought. To hear the idea behind a brand/company/product/etc. and be able to create something that introduces it to the public, makes it known, familiar, trustworthy. It was all mind blowing to me and I assumed it would be for everyone else.

So one night, as I was hanging out with a group of people, I brought it up.

We were discussing the Patriots, an NFL team known at the time for being consistently good, thanks in large part to their future hall of fame quarterback, Tom Brady.

Growing up in a New York Giants household, I had chimed in with a few jabs at the team, not to mention the two recent Superbowls we’d bested them in.

“Isn’t it crazy though,” I said, “that their logo—a logo probably known around the world by now—is something an artist made? Something collaborated on and meticulously designed that now represents so much history!”

I expected echoed awe. Or at least a subtle nod that recognized it as mildly cool. Instead, they both laughed.

“Uh, yeah, that’s kind of just how it works??” one person said, their giggles nearly knocking them over.

“Can you believe it?” the other said mockingly, “they just drew it and now it’s a drawing!”

I felt my cheeks go hot, but I tried to chuckle along with them, to agree that it was stupid, and then I tried to change the subject. But for months afterward, it was brought up again and again.

“Remember when you were amazed by a drawing?”

“Someone just drew this?!?!”

Each time my smile got smaller and smaller as I tried to figure out not why they were making fun of me, but why I had found it so fascinating.

Maybe it wasn’t that amazing.

Maybe I was being ridiculous.

Maybe it was obvious and I had sounded naïve.

Afterward, I grew wary, careful not to lean into the things I found interesting, or to share them unwarranted with others. I often tried to embrace neutrality, withholding both figurative and literal exclamation points that I wanted to use in abundance. Anytime I went on a tangent, I often spent the next few hours regretting it, wondering if people were whispering about me, feeling embarrassed for me, judging me.

I can’t pin these habits solely on this interaction, but more so interactions like this. Little digs, paper cuts, challenges to who you are, what you think, and what you enjoy, that are ultimately just a part of growing up.

I also don’t think these comments were ever intended to hurt my feelings. They stemmed from a difference of opinon, from seeing in different colors. I have likely offered similar reactions to those expressing their own discoveries of wonder without knowing.

Because yes, something we find incredible might not even be remotely interesting to someone else. Something we find amazing might seem obvious to someone else. But that doesn’t mean we should cast out our wonder in order to avoid someone’s judgement, or to cater our color pallete to somone else’s preferences.

Our wonder should be loud and bright, deep and wide. Not only for our benefit, but for those around us.

It is such a privelege to see someone alive with wonder and delight, enthusiastic with knowledge and new understanding, hopeful with inspiration and creativity. And it has been so refreshing to feel this side of myself reopen its windows and let the sun in without shame.

So let us not allow anyone to crush our wonder, no matter how big, small, colorful, or weird.

And let us not crush the wonder of those around us.

Let us all use our exclamation points, go on tangents, and invite the world into our enthusiasm.

Let us all hold things over our heads and scream, “can you believe this?!” because sometimes we all need something to reopen our eyes to the world’s magic.