Today is my father's 58th birthday, which makes me, well, still 25. When I was younger, I imagined, as most children do, that anyone over 40 was near walker and cane status.
My older sisters shared a room, and I had my own for about my first four-five years of my life. The eldest of my two younger brothers was born when I was four. We shared a room until my youngest brother was born, two years later. From the age of four to six, I would sneak into my sisters' room to crawl into bed with them. I distinctly remember one evening when my oldest sister was sobbing in her bed. Eventually, my father came in to check on us, and he tried to console her, not knowing what was the issue. My sister would only speak with my mom about it. She told my mom that she was worried that Papa was going to die soon. My father wasn't even 40.
18 years later, I still worry. He is 58, healthy, active, and happy. For my father, age truly is only a number. Just because one becomes older, doesn't mean one must act old. Yet, from where does this worry of mine thrive?
My older sisters shared a room, and I had my own for about my first four-five years of my life. The eldest of my two younger brothers was born when I was four. We shared a room until my youngest brother was born, two years later. From the age of four to six, I would sneak into my sisters' room to crawl into bed with them. I distinctly remember one evening when my oldest sister was sobbing in her bed. Eventually, my father came in to check on us, and he tried to console her, not knowing what was the issue. My sister would only speak with my mom about it. She told my mom that she was worried that Papa was going to die soon. My father wasn't even 40.
18 years later, I still worry. He is 58, healthy, active, and happy. For my father, age truly is only a number. Just because one becomes older, doesn't mean one must act old. Yet, from where does this worry of mine thrive?
My parents are truly phenomenal people whom I greatly admire. Thinking of them reminds me of who I want to be and what I need to do with my soul.
This summer, I will become closer to myself. My roots will be revisited, and I will focus on my inner peace. Even though my practice has become laxidasical, I will write again, delving into the thoughts of my mind that define me. My use of language will amplify, and I will surpass where I once was and where I aim to be.
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