The Journey of Time
As I sit by my open window in the early morning, I look out to the sky which is tinged pink from the rising sun. The air is cool. The rose bush nestles by the window languorously, as if enjoying the start of the new day. Birds perch on it and on the dogwood tree, cheerfully chirping away. I look out into space, dreaming, going back in time.
I see my young self in the same stance, in my early thirties, slim, straight, and strong, staring out of the same window. The skies were angry and grey, rain pelting harshly against the window panes. We had escaped a revolution in our war-torn country, uprooted and flung into a land not our own. It was the end of a way of life, of innocence.
The unfriendliness of our new neighbors bewildered us. Except for a few kind souls, most treated us horribly. The taunting and discrimination hurled at my children and me were unbearable. Life was harsh, with the weight of blame unfairly placed upon us.
But as the years passed, I grew stronger. No longer afraid to speak out, I became a fierce protector of my family, standing up to injustice with a fiery determination. Transforming from a gentle soul into a resilient force, life’s challenges tempered me into steel.
Now, as a grandmother reflecting on the swift passage of time, I marvel at the changes. From a young mother to an elder in the neighborhood, time has shifted imperceptibly, marking the evolution of my family and my community. With a smile, I realize there is no need to rush anymore. Time has flown by, and now all that remains is to savor the memories and the present moment.
The sun has risen, casting its light on the morning sky, as the birds continue their joyful melodies. I rise to pour myself another cup of tea, grateful for the journey and the resilience that has shaped my life.