Sunday, 17 January 2016

Chronicles of a 19 YO Moroccan Girl #12

Chapter 12 : Taste Of Childhood

Change is inevitable.
The nature is changing constantly as the seasons go by. Trees lose their dull leaves to grow colorful flowers which petals are decorated with endless labyrinth-like veins visible in the light, but those flowers’ faith is to wilt one day and fall from the majestic branch as they have never existed. They will fade under someone’s step like the leaves before them who were claiming the propriety of the tree and defying the wind rusting them.  Nevertheless, they could not defy the time and its effect either could the tree.

It’s is with a nostalgic taste, a bitter anxiety and an aroma of sadness that I remember those sweet times before the inevitable change. I was a credulous child, a na├»ve little girl that believed in the utopian world. I believed that my mother was never wrong, that my father was a hero, that the gardener’s wife is going to explode because of her overweight, that this mysterious place behind the hedge that my grandmother prohibited me to visit is full of mystical creatures, that marriages are the happy ending of every love story, that people can either be good or bad…

When I realized I was growing, I freaked out. The indicator of the inevitable change was not puberty. I realized I was growing up when I started to forget what it is like to be a child. When the delights of getting a new toy faded and I couldn’t remember it. When I chose sleeping a little bit more rather than watching the morning cartoon. Peter Pan and I promised to never grow up, one of us broke this promise. Guess who …? . For my defense I wanted to say that growing up was an inevitable wall and I was a car without brakes ready to crash in the inescapable surface of cement.  It seemed to me as if the dust of sand in the hourglass that is life changed to drops of water and time went faster than ever.

With love, 

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Thanks for sharing !
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