By Alya Ahmad, Pediatric Hospitalist
“How strange a thing is life…”
It starts out so simple, just food , sleep, and comfort for the bodily routines. It is the baby regarding the warmth of the mother’s voice, face, and the breast.
then comes the first turn, the roll over, the baby steps, and so then comes the watchful eye of the mother. She fears the fall, the break, the pain.
as time flows, so does the worry. the child speaks, first asks, then demands, then expects. The mother does it all and then the child runs, spells, and befriends.
The baby becomes the child; the child becomes the teenager.
Very soon, the child has no memory of all those tender kisses, the smell of sweet milk, the hugs, and reassurance. The teenager shuts the door, speaks little, and goes on with what they hold important. The mother upholds, waits, and wonders.
How strange life is? As the man walks out the door, waves goodbye, and moves on. All those days that have melted away, the chalk on the ground, the bicycle lays rusted in the garage, the books on the shelf have aged and grown with the child, soon to be stored away. Memories of movie nights, junk food, cereal boxes, appointments, parent teacher conferences, game days, the audience at graduation, the accolades, and the pictures on icloud streaming away.
How strange life is? As I sit here, waiting, wondering, hoping, watching, thinking, writing, feeling, storing. All the things you spent a life time building and now having to discard, give away, and handover. Forget, forget, forget.
How strange life is? It stops for no one, it tics away without fail. it lives beyond you.