In the end she was, all that she never dreamed she could be capable of being – and more…so much more than she would have ever aspired to be on her own, if not given the challenge of the journey through Oz and all it had entailed. She grew, though fearful and desperately unsure of herself each step of the way.
She first found the Scarecrow, a brainless mass, questioning every fiber of his being and influence on the world. Never fully understanding his own purpose or meaning or even knowing what a life’s purpose was – she held him and indoctrinated him as a part of herself – realizing and finding within herself the broken pieces that connected them to one another.
Only to encounter the Tin Man. A creation, a man – but not a man – a being made of tin, adept at everything but lacking the heart. The very essence of our humanity, the ability to feel – what we inspire and what we hope to invoke in others to experience by their interaction with us, as an individual, striving to be something greater than what we perceive ourselves to be – what we actually are – we never know, we can only assume the effect(s) we have on others – at least NOT to the extent we idealize and/or endeavor.