Life flashes before your eyes when you are about to die.
It also does when you grow up. One day you are building mud houses with your feet, the next you are ruminating on real estate and mortgages. Your life flashes in the transition to and when adulthood is reached. Childhood and adolescence perish in record time. Innocence is tested and responsibility is realised.
When I was a child, a teenager seemed an adult. As a teenager, an adult seemed even more of an adult. Now that I’m an adult, a teenager is a child and sometimes, an adult. Weird huh? how our shoes look different when we’ve outgrown them; how throwback pictures reveal terrible fashion choices that leave us with: “what was I thinking?”
One moment you are 12-years-old growing hair in smelly and covered places, the next you are shaving and waxing. People start to say things like “wow! you have grown” and soon you become the annoying relative who always comments:“you are now a big boy oo,” at family gatherings.
Marriage, kids and you become your parents. Trying to live out your dreams whilst burdened – albeit lovingly – with having to feed new stomachs. Watering seeds into trees. And all these experiences – looking backwards – are etched as synopses not novels. Screen shots not movies. Snippets not full songs. Just salient, distinct moments of joy—but grief, stress—but tranquil, love—and despair, and if lucky, random moments like the time it rained on a Thursday after school.
Life does not only flash when you’re about to die. It does as time passes: day by day, year by year. Carpe diem they say, carpe diem!
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