I wasn’t very naughty as a child, but my behaviour was sometimes unbearable, I think. At least that’s what I think in retrospect; I feel I was once the kind of child I don’t like now. But I also needed to be held.
When you’re a child, do you think you can love yourself? Is it too early? We expect too much from them in terms of seriousness. As if we could self-compensate when we fall and get a bloody knee? Don’t we scream and run away when we were scared? Still, I found a place to hide.
As children we had sleepless nights, screaming, crying, big problems that sounded ridiculous, homework, puberty and any other problem that came to mind. Everyone had them. It wasn’t just us, any more than it’s just us now. But we didn’t always have a conscious friend to sit down and talk to. Besides, who was so conscious then, who could be friendly and give us lessons, who could approach us in good faith despite all our problems? When there was such a person, I kept asking.
Photo by Xavier Mouton Photographie on Unsplash
We were growing up, or so we thought, only time was passing. But time, like our problems, was the same for everyone. We are now at a time when we realise that adults who look different with time are not as young as we remember. “So what, did everyone else grow up too?” Of course time has not stopped.
The moment time stops is this very moment, the moment you are in. Because you are living it, you are aware of it. When you look back, you always say the same thing: “How quickly time has passed!” Then suddenly you realise that you wish it would never pass. This realisation is sad. Because the wrinkles start to appear, the aches and pains start, and sometimes the signs of old age come to mind. You make an inner plea, but it is in vain. Then it is necessary, if possible, to be understanding about something: do it while there is still time.
Do you know what I do in these situations? If possible, I go and hug the people I love the most. They have no idea, they don’t understand what’s going on. There are moments when you feel the suffocation inside, but you don’t want to let it out. You want the wound to stay inside, you want the love to flow out.
Throughout this article I have been thinking about my parents, but mostly about my mother. Although time shows its unpleasant side, I can’t be angry with it, it’s her duty. When I look at my mother, the joyful part of my childhood is no longer there, but I owe it to her to live with those dreams because I love her and I want her to know that she is loved. Let the me of her childhood stay in her mind. Because I may have changed too, but she never looked at me differently.
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