The dilemma was always how to begin. Isn’t it one of the strangest things to have so much to say yet not be able to express it? Well, I’ve been told that sometimes the best place to start is from the top. So, I decided to start at the very beginning…
….or at least try to.
It was at five that the earliest memory of who she was, registered. Her fifth birthday. She could still remember standing next to the sliding doors that looked over the backyard. It was a Saturday and sleep was a lot longer than usual. The cards, the cakes and the love. Birthdays were her best days. We can’t forget the blue dress, the one with the tiny bag. The black shoes, the ones that went with the stockings with lacy wings. The pearls, the ones that came in a set – earrings, necklace and bangles. Five was pretty special.
At ten the pox came. Decorating her body with little scars that left memories she would look back on and smile. Memories of those nights her father stayed with her on the “infected” bed and told her stories until she fell asleep. It was that same year the measles promised to be part of the fun and leave her almost blind. Thankfully, her mum was there to guide her through and love her true. Ten was pretty eventful.
By fifteen she was graduating from girl to lady. Slowly but surely. From her walk to her talk. She began to take proper care of herself. The tasks and responsibilities that came with growing up were not always looked forward to. The gradual preparation for the next phase of her life. They were right. The little bud will bloom. Fifteen was also when the butterflies began to dance in her tummy. Where the boy from the other city made them so. Eventually, it was the same boy who will later make the butterflies save their dance for later. Fifteen was pretty interesting.
Twenty, on the other hand, came in full blast and ended not quite. It was at twenty that a glimpse of the real world was thrown at her. Work-life was different. The uncertainty of what each day could bring. Days that were cool and days that life seemed to be unkind. It was at twenty she had to say goodbye to her mum. That chapter came to an end so abruptly. A farewell she was forced into. It was at twenty she found in herself strength. That year she woke up. Twenty was pretty chaotic.
A little fast forward and there we see twenty-five. The lady is a woman. The caterpillar has become the beautiful butterfly that she is today. While this new chapter has so much potential, she only hopes she’s ready to take on the challenge and write the most beautiful story ever told. Twenty-five will be amazing.
“In the end, it is not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.”
-Abraham Lincoln
