It’s a cliché and I know it, to say, “Life is short.” It’s the kind of thing my Dad would say, as he holds my hand (yes we still hold hands,) and every time I see him he gets misty eyed and tells me how I used to fit in his forearm between his palm and the crook of his elbow and life is too short and quick.
But life IS short, or the days are, and they seem to ZOOM past at an incredible pace, with no regard for the people in them, like HEY! I had things to do today, oh well… I guess I’ll do them tomorrow. The little squares in the calendar don’t even get written in, the events and appointments and life things come at me too thick and heavy I just have to make a mental note. I race through the week, plodding through each working day and then I wake up and lo and behold it is Saturday morning, and there is nowhere I have to rush to be, and snow covers the rooftops because it snowed over night, and I’m like, What happened to this week? Where did Wednesday go? What did I achieve? I can have a whole weekend to myself again? And then what? We’ll restart the week and then we’ll keep doing this and then it will be Christmas again?
If you’ve ever read my blog before you’ll know that I am pretty full of life, and I love mine, good, bad, f*cking nuts, bruised, scraped, shiny, insane family and all. I love the new experiences I have and every day (even the ones where I cry because I miss Sydney and Hong Kong and my friends and family) I wake up with wonder in my heart and joy in every breath I take.
What an incredible place Toronto is, the other side of the world from where I was born, and half a world away from the linoleum floored apartment’s of Asia. And how young I feel in view of all the things on this planet I still have to see and learn – I walk around with wide-eyed excitement like a toddler. But then I see photos of old high school friends at such and such’s wedding, and WOW do we look old, like real adults. That’s weird because when I look in the mirror all I see is a slightly more made-up version of the 15-year-old I still feel like.
And that’s time, tricking me. Has it really been six years since I graduated high school!? I see the babies that were in year 6 when I was in year 12 graduating and going to Universities, and I’m like, WAIT A DAMN SECOND!! You can drink now?! Are people really getting married and having babies? What’s that about? Who are these people with real job titles like “Market Analyst”? Because all i see is Market Anal-yst. Sigh.
And then I realize Canuck boyfriend is turning 28 this year and what the HELL could you BE any closer to 30!? (yes I guess…he could be 29….)
Am I still going to feel like a child in this wide world when I have my own child eventually? Is there a switch that flicks from child to adult, and where is that located? Or don’t I want to know?