Through the Years

Irritated, the young child gazed up at me.

“Do you want me to be able to grow or not?” she demanded.

I did. Well, at least I told myself I did. Even so, shivers ran down my spine, each feeling like individual needles jabbing into my flesh.

“It doesn’t help when you’re shivering, you know?” she informed me in such a strong way that I felt as if it were deja vu.

"It doesn’t help when you’re shivering, you know?" It was such a forceful phrase, a demand to stop veiled by sharp words. To hear it come out of a child’s mouth, out of all the people I have ever met, was a surprise in itself.

“We used to bond so well with others. We used to help them, instead of standing aside and watching. Remember me?” the child recalled, flashing a gloomy smile.

Bonding and helping. So it was her, I thought to myself, but it could not have been her. This girl is a child, an infant. Compared to the woman I had once battled alongside of, the woman that was also the brave, flamboyant goddess of confidence, she was a naïve, innocent amateur.

“You!? I-It can’t be you. What happened to you? You-you’re aging backwards, aren’t you?” I stammered, pointing at her.

She shook her head, sighing, “No, not me. What happened to you?”

“I-I-Well, I grew up! A-and in a normal way, too, might I add!” I replied, unsure of what to say.

“No. You’re aging backwards. You’re running, and you’re hiding. Do you know what this does to me? If you can’t face the past, how can you face the future? Everything just comes and goes; nothing will stop there for you, except perhaps me. We used to be so sure of ourselves. We used to want to leave a mark on this world, show them their flaws and help them from these troubles. Remember who you were and who you are because of the events leading up to now. Remember me and how I was. Open your doors once more,” she forlornly whispered, disappearing, her words like the melodic batting of waves on a distant shore.

I reached for her, even though it was too late, declaring, “Y-you can’t just leave just like that. I’ll try. I’ll try to talk to others, to open my doors. I’ll help them, show them who I am and why I hid. I will make a plan for this year, and I will carry it out!”



I sat alone on my couch at home, using my pulse oximeter. Thud. Thud. Thud. My heartbeat felt like the rhythm of a steady-paced song, like the batting of waves on a faraway shore.