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A reflection on time and childhood
As a child, I never fully understood growing up.
The idea seemed absurd, impossible even.
But then one day I realized that I had grown up without noticing.
The realization struck me, made me sad somehow.
Because the gift of time can never be replayed, only remembered.
With every year that passes, a pit inside me expands and deepens,
As the child inside me looks up and watches my now semi-matured being.
Sometimes I wonder what child-me thinks of her older self.
Am I everything she wanted? Everything she expected? Or am I a disappointment to her youthful eyes.
I miss being younger, and not caring about time moving so quickly around me.
I only looked forward as a kid. Always wanting something else, something different.
But now I glance behind me, more often than focusing on what's ahead.
To everything there is a season.
There is a time to be a child, and there is a time to grow up.
And there is nothing that can change that.
The idea seemed absurd, impossible even.
But then one day I realized that I had grown up without noticing.
The realization struck me, made me sad somehow.
Because the gift of time can never be replayed, only remembered.
With every year that passes, a pit inside me expands and deepens,
As the child inside me looks up and watches my now semi-matured being.
Sometimes I wonder what child-me thinks of her older self.
Am I everything she wanted? Everything she expected? Or am I a disappointment to her youthful eyes.
I miss being younger, and not caring about time moving so quickly around me.
I only looked forward as a kid. Always wanting something else, something different.
But now I glance behind me, more often than focusing on what's ahead.
To everything there is a season.
There is a time to be a child, and there is a time to grow up.
And there is nothing that can change that.
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