Growing Up #3: Age is just a number?

Age is just a number, they say.

Maybe they are right, it’s an arbitrary measure of how long you have lived chronologically.  But only if life could be lived in the simple timelines that come ahead. Some days I am 10 years behind, like a kid that I always am. Some days I function like an adult, apt for the time. Some other days I am a toddler, whose insatiable demands leave me heart broken. Some other days I am a philosopher trying her tiny hands at solving problems that may appear 10 years from now.

It does seem age is just a number. Like a river that splits into tributaries that visits different landscapes as it journeys through time, twisted and turned. A part of me lies in the pristine mountains, some other submerged in the waters of the South. Perhaps it would be best to let the streams unwind on their own and be washed into the sea.

No number could ever justify the depth that we have seen amalgamated into one.


Growing Up – a series on well, growing up. Every Saturday because Saturdays are perfect for overthinking.

Transient

The transient moment

when one conversation

is over, and I wait for the next,

searching for eyes that

might accidentally meet mine,

that transient moment

surrounded by faces –

smiling, welcoming,

I understand what alone means

for three seconds.

I go off to find the next.

Growing Up #2: Less of Bubble Baths

I’ve always thought of bubble baths as a metaphor for sauntering around, to have the short time in betweens for day dreaming. The bubbles dispersing into the air, the smell of shampoo, but more importantly, the time at hand. These bubble bath moments include anything from saving the world as the next Wonder Woman to being strangely excited about buying a nonexistent pair of shoes.

The older I get, I find myself scrambling for these bubble baths, overwhelmed by the amount over the plate that is to be done. At times bubble baths mean cutting down on some other priority.

Less of bubble baths mostly means waking up from dreams into reality, the bittersweet realization that day dreaming cannot solve half my problems.

Or maybe, they could?


Second week of writing a snippet on Growing Up. Saturdays are perfect for overthinking, lamenting and having some more hot chocolate or litchi juice. 

Rock in a River

Do you sometimes feel
like a rock amidst the flowing waters
of a big river?

Each splash of water
you come across tells you a new story.
The river flows on it’s own
as you stand there, immobile
unable to chase the current
as it erodes a part of you.

The river has it’s own mind,
it goes on it’s own
as you become accustomed to its sound.

You can’t roll with it
neither can you run,
for it has a heart of it’s own,
and it meets so many stones.

But you await for the river
long gone to the ocean.
Each splash chips a piece of you,
perhaps it will flow into the ocean
but will you ever be able to find
all your pieces scattered across time?

Do you sometimes feel
like a rock amidst the flowing waters
unable to move,
only there to witness
the change that comes forth?