YESTERYEARS

When an old man was asked about his childhood, growth and his life in general up until the moment, he took a deep breath, a long one. None of us understood the sigh, but we understood that old people sigh a lot. Being immature and young, we only grew when we heard him pour his heart out. Like there was a lot he wanted to say, no one just ever asked him.

"Hmmn" he began, we braced ourselves for a short story, not intending to stay long, but somehow we did, our butts stuck to our chairs as we listened with wide open jaws. I knew in my mind, my Mom was expecting me at home, but the man's lips won't stop moving, I just had to listen to it all.

"The old times, the old times were nice. The times where we used to have a million dreams, play with water toy guns, form fake families and sing together, even though the lyrics were unknown to us. There was joy in our hearts, and the laughter that blared out when we played, those were the things that mattered. We had the peace, innocence and freedom that the older people craved. Even our cries never lasted hours, only until candy made it's way to us and we would form a new smile. We cried not caring how terrible our voices sounded. My mother used to give me puff puff just to stop me from crying, having that kind of power, made me feel on top in a way.

I had a grandmother who always sat and watched as we enjoyed our little lives along with other mothers and older people. Sometimes they would shake their heads and most times I could hear their sighs from across the compound, just like you'd know. We seemed lost at that, it bared no meaning to me or any of us but, we knew old people sighed a lot. He smiled a little, we did too because we knew old people sighed a lot. "But after eighty five years, I can definitely tell what caused those sighs and why she always smiled but still had tears in her eyes.

 In those little kids, she saw happiness and a pure God given heart. It made her heart leap with joy eargerly, wishing she could have frozen her years at six to maintain that happiness. Her eyes would get damp, wishing she could freeze our years too, but life would take its course.

There was fear in her eyes, too much fear. How would she tell us that our innocence won't stay forever, and it would probably get corrupted when puberty knocks, that our parents would try to train and curb bad habits but we'll grow anyway.

I now know her prayers, she prayed we'd grow in the hands of God and not fall away like the kids she used to play together with, in her days. She prayed we saw white and called it white, not blue, 'cause to her that's the beginning of corruption. Her prayers were for us not to get trapped in the fangs of life. When she died, we saw the sad smile no more, then we knew what life entails. 

If we had known, we'd have gone to church more, prayed more to God. For us, religion was a thing that was passed down. We would wake up on Sunday, go to church, and eat excellent dishes during Christmas and Easter. No one told us that a relationship with God was more and there was more to gain, maybe they did and we probably never understood or listened. If we had, we'd have taken more risk in faith, our mistakes would have been less, we'd never have felt condemned by the world, and we'd have turned out better.

Grandma's thoughts were right, our innocence was carted away without us knowing, little frivolities came in and we let them tarry, we called it cruise. We never knew it was one go around in this beautiful life, until we saw grandma die and never came back. We had decisions to make, mouths to feed and people to help, more responsibilities we never thought we'd have. 

No one told us there would be failure in our attempts, and even when failure stares us in the eyes, we're always meant to fail forward. No one told us we would one day cry and know the meaning, she didn't tell us there were heart breaks. Maybe if she had, we'd have handled the pains better and not get drowned in them and let our life stroll by.

Even our mother and Father said nothing about the struggles of life and how we're supposed to put God first, they wanted to feed us, they did. And they told us not to steal and stay contented, but, we needed more to go through the hurdles of life, and when we were older, we had wasted so many years.

At a point, we all wanted was to grow up, do things mothers can do, wear the shoes like father, use their types of accessories and spend their type of money. They said we could do it. They never said we'd have to walk hundred miles and all we'd have left is what we want, a piece, or nothing at all. They never told us things wouldn't always go the way we want them to go. 

 They always said "Live your best life" but my darlings, I think what they meant to say was, in struggles and hustles, even in peace, put God first and he will come first. I wish someone had told us that.

If only I could see the shadows of my young years again, I'd shed tears and tell myself that, and maybe a little louder so others too can hear.

All we have now are memories and news from abroad, I can still hear our laughter sounding sonorously in my ears.

Look,

One of my friends, I heard was in London. One died two years ago, one's on the sea exploring the world, one just had a great grandkid, one lives alone, one died in prison and one's in front of you. We thought we were strong, but we fell.

Who knew, life would take it's course, snatch our innocence away and put in our hands, something more, something we weren't prepared for, ADULTHOOD."

Really dumbfounded, I saw my life resonate strongly with his younger years as the old man said all of these and, I asked. 

"So growing up is like hell?" that was the best word I found, growing up sounded terrifying. And the old man smiled.

"No my dear, growing up is fun, it's going to happen anyway and you can just enjoy it"

"How?" I was quick to ask.

"Having a good mentor, a life coach" he smiled again.

"You?" 

"No, God through his son Jesus. Trust me, I wish someone had told me this when I was younger." He smiled, I'd grown in just a few minutes, so I knew the meaning of his smile.

These were the words I left the old man's house with, creating a deep hole in my heart. I tried envisioning myself in fifty five years from now, I figured I'd end up like this old man, having the same regrets, telling the same sad stories and living a little life, only if I continued living the way he lived. I went home with an upgraded version of my faith.

© Mulero Abibat.