“Solitude is painful when one is young, but delightful when one is more mature.” — Albert Einstein
I’m an only child.
For years I’ve wanted a sibling. Brother or sister. Older or younger. It didn’t matter. I just wanted a companion. Someone who I could share secrets with or talk to across the room late at night. Someone who I could spend a whole afternoon with and learn from. Someone who I could do lots of things with.
But that never happened.
So, instead of playing with a sibling, I sat down with my Children’s Encyclopedia and learned about the Periodic Table of Elements and the life cycle of a star, how maglev trains work and how hydrofoils cruise over water, intrigued by all the striking illustrations and diagrams. I pored over my LEGO magazines, admiring all the unique models and trying in vain to emulate my favorite ones — there just never seemed to be enough of the right pieces! I swept the bookshelves with my hungry hands, and when every book had been devoured and fully digested, I pillaged my cousin’s house for their collection of the Great Illustrated Classics.
All these I did alone.
For the longest time in my childhood, I felt lonely. There was no one to share my scientific discoveries with, no one to show my LEGO masterpieces to, and no one to talk with about books. Gradually, that loneliness faded away. There were more things to do: homework to finish, projects to complete, tests to study for, club meetings to attend, and piano to practice. Too many things were on my mind to be preoccupied with my loneliness. The more there was to do, the less lonely I felt.
Now, instead of sitting down with my Children’s Encyclopedia, I sit down with the newest issue of the Scientific American and read about the human mind. Instead of playing with LEGO models, I play the piano. Instead of reading the Great Illustrated Classics, I read the great novels themselves.
All these I still do alone.
But now, the solitude is refreshing. There is a freedom that comes with it. My mind can wander without bound and I can be by myself to think, to reflect, and to dream. Images of a neuroscientist unlocking the secrets of the mind, a renowned pianist touring the world and performing music for everyone, and a writer exploring the themes of our society and the human nature all coalesce in my imagination.
One thing hasn’t changed since my childhood. The yearning for knowledge has always been my closest companion. It is with me in times of solitude and in times of togetherness. Knowledge has become the sibling I’ve always wanted. It is someone who I can share secrets with or talk to across the room late at night. It is someone who I can spend a whole afternoon with and learn from. It is someone who I can keep forever.
