Was I Chasing the Gingerbread Man or My Father’s Approval?
After 7 hours of pursuing the baked good which had earlier alighted from my oven, I thought to myself, “Why am I trying to catch this Gingerbread Man?”

Running is quite meditative, whether one is on a morning jog or galloping after an impossible doughy figure. So my mind cleared enough to ponder the question further. What was it I really yearned to catch?

Certainly, it couldn’t be a cookie.

I mean sure, I love cookies, but enough to work this hard? By which I mean do MORE work. Because I’d already done the work to make the darn thing. Mixing the dry ingredients, beating the eggs, sourcing the molasses, and struggling up the ladder to become the master baker in my hard-to-please father’s establishment. And now this nonsense? I was so tired of chasing things at this point.

Consumed with my own thoughts, I hadn’t noticed the small crowd who’d joined me in my hellish chase. What spurred them on? Was that woman chasing her dream of writing a dissertation on the autonomy of baked goods? Did that man desire the secret for bringing life to what had before been lifeless so he could woo investors and build a unicorn company like his brother? Was that child hoping to make a friend who didn’t confuse her as her own middle school friends were currently doing? Would my father really get angry at me if I lost track of one measly product?

Around this point, the Gingerbread man cried, “Run, run, as fast as you can. You’ll never catch me! I’m the thing you’ve wanted for years yet I remain just out of sight.”

He must be getting tired. That line didn’t rhyme at all.

Now we were a literal mob. All of us running, running, running, after a creature who mocked us relentlessly. He stayed within probable grasping range, but whenever someone started getting close, off he’d shoot on delicious feet.

Of course, as the crowd grew so too did the realization that there wasn’t enough Gingerbread Man to go around. People began to sabotage those close to them. I saw a politician trip a student. A farmer put his cow in front of a mother with a stroller. One life coach told another woman to go home and manifest the cookie through journaling.

The Gingerbread Man cackled and yelled, “Run, run, as fast as you can. You’re about as likely to catch me as you are at getting a certain someone to acknowledging your talent.”

Ragged breathing to my right me drew my attention. A woman in sporty leggings eyed the Gingerbread Man with a kind of hunger that had nothing to do with food. Did I look like that?

Her phone rang. She answered it, never breaking her stride “Hey dad…Yes I’m still studying law…No…I don’t know if I’m going to be top of class yet! I got to go.”

The Gingerbread Man changed his tune again. I swear he was speaking only to me. “Study culinary arts as hard as you can, you’ll never catch me! I’m your father’s withheld approval.”

That was enough for me. I stopped. The small crowd that remained passed me. I let them. I thought I was chasing a Gingerbread Man, but the whole time I was trying to catch on to the approval of a man I’d been chasing for years.

So I went home. I heard the fate of the Gingerbread Man on the news and wasn’t surprised. I know what it is like to run as fast as you can to achieve greatness while seeing your chance of getting gruff, “I’m proud of you,” swallowed by the jaws of time and indifference.

Later that night I woke up to a text from my father. Be at work a couple hours early for me. Thx.

Without hesitation, I set my alarm. What can I say? I know I’ll always choose the chase.
['Kyrie Gray']
['Books', 'Humor', 'Self', 'Family', 'Food']