“Some day we'll be old enough to start reading fairy tales again”

Star Light Star bright                                

The first star I see tonight,

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight.

As a child I strongly believed in the power of those four lines and I even had a particular star I used to wish upon. My star. Whether it was a new toy, the perfect birthday present, coloring books, you name it, wishing upon a star and reciting the rhyme was how I got it. Along with being my wishing star, it was also my most comforting friend. On the dark nights I felt scared, it would twinkle and in its luminosity I would feel secure. On nights that I was angry, it would listen silently to my endless rants and cries. On one of those upsetting nights, somewhere between my outbursts I made a wish: “I wish I grow up really fast so everybody would stop treating me like a child!” I think you know what happened next.

I’m seventeen now, and far from my childhood. In a matter of years I have grown up a fair amount mentally, physically and emotionally. As I get older I learn responsibility, maturity, loyalty, intelligence and strength and all sorts of traits that stir together to make a good adult. I have also gained enough sensibility and analytical skills to know that wishing upon a star is not the way to pursue what I am after. In fact, it is considered very silly to do so, in this adolescent world I now live in. Being responsible, reasonable and working hard is really how I am supposed to pursue what I desire. I am often told that I’m growing up to be a good adult followed by a pat on the back. Every now and then people will stop me and ask, “What are your plans for the future? “; “Have you learned to drive yet? “; “Do you have a part time job? “ I answer these questions quickly because frankly, these questions are not my favourite. Maybe it is the cliché effect or the repetition that I am quite bored of. Whichever it is, it makes me wish I would get asked something different for a change.

Last Sunday as I was working on some class projects my sister came into my room to say goodnight. I was locked so tight in my profound state of concentration that her entrance somewhat startled me. She stood resting one hand on my shoulder looking at my work in puzzlement, and commented, “This looks like hard stuff!” Trying to suppress my laughter at her childish choice of words she chose to comment on the work she found fairly complex I replied, “It sure is. The older you get the harder life gets”. Now that I think back to this late night conversation, my reply to her question must have contained a hint of regret which I failed to notice but she certainly did not. With more questioning and puzzlement dispersing across her face she asked, “Do you miss your childhood?” Caught off guard by her question which seemed rather philosophical for a nine year old whose main concern is usually, “What flavour of ice-cream should I get” I asked “What?” “Do you miss being a kid?” she rephrased, assuming I didn’t know what childhood meant. The answer to the question is a Yes, but it’s not easy to put that ‘yes’ into words that a nine year old would understand. So, I decided to go with the best answer I was able to come up with: “Sometimes.” I smiled, we hugged goodnight and she left the room, and I was left sitting there lost in wistfulness.

I do miss my childhood. I miss being innocent. I miss having the freedom of running around in my diaper without having a care in the world. I miss having the hardest decision to make being, “Should I color this picture blue or red?”. I miss feeling superb each time I remembered to wash my hands after a meal or bathroom trip. I miss the walks to and from the bus stop with my mom. I miss riding the bike with my friend. My special friend. I miss her too. Most of all, I miss being insensible to nostalgia. Like any other growing child, I barely ever stopped to look back because I was too focused on exploring what was ahead of me. The first time I ever truly longed for my childhood was the day I found out that my special friend had passed away. That was a life changing experience for me and although I sometimes wish I could turn back time and go back to the childhood, I know that I have to look ahead. After all, the only way to get over the loss of a friend and the nostalgic feeling is to move forward right?

Whenever an adult consoles me about my loss, they always mention that I should be moving forward and avoid looking back at the past as it will only cause more sorrow; ironically I  find myself looking back and reminiscing quite often. The faster I move forward the more obstacles I come across and the more nostalgic I feel. When I sit in a classroom with a blank page and a pen in front of me, required to write a thousand word essay, I remember how effortless it was to write, “I love you Mommy!” on a piece of paper and post it on the fridge.  Each time my pressure valve begins to compress I turn to look back at the days when stress did not exist. When I sit in driver’s seat for the first time, I miss balancing my hands and feet on my bike riding alongside with my friend. When I saw her face for the last time at her funeral with tearful eyes, I remembered how painless it was to smile and wave at her at the end of the school day, being certain that we would meet again the next day. Sitting in a room in a state of melancholy, trying to heal that hole in my heart, I think back and smile at all the times I fell off the swing and cried over a scraped knee. That is nostalgia to me.

As the saying goes, the good comes with the bad; there are many wonderful things about this adolescent life. Although I do miss the days I spent living in my personal bubble of happiness, I also know that the understanding, maturity and sensibility I have gained as I am growing up has helped me learn more about myself. Losing my friend changed my perspective in the sense that I am now able to understand and relate to other’s sorrow. To some extent of course, because I have also learned that everyone has different sorrows, and they come to terms with it in their own way. Many times when I feel sorrow I want to rant and cry, but at the same time I feel that I should count my blessings and be thankful for what I had and have.

Childhood and adulthood are the opposite ends of the same continuum. Some choose to live in the past [childhood] and freeze in the moments surrounded by nostalgia while, others move forward and never look back. I try my best to balance both. I remember everyday spent with my friend with contentment and as I move forward, I make sure to look back from time to time and reflect on what I had. Though she is not with me, I still have the memories from our childhood to remember her by. I am blessed to have had a childhood to which I can look back at with tears of joy rather than with tears of sorrow. Although, my childhood is long gone and all that is left is a box full of memories, there are some parts of it I have still been able to hold on to. When my nostalgia leaves me feeling sorrow and when the tears start to roll down, I slide open the window. I look out to find my star in the sky, and sometimes I come across two. Could the second star be my friend perhaps? I’m not certain but what I am certain of is this: there are certain things that left long ago, and cannot be brought back; then, there is some that we thought we had lost and yet they were here all along.

This is Yours Truly sharing what's on her mind =]