Ahh... my old, creaky bones!

Yesterday, as I got out of the car with my family to go to a store, a weird thought came into my mind: what have I done in my life?

Wait, before you go away, let me explain. I meant that I suddenly felt I was towards the end of my life… or that I’d spent all there was so spend in the manner of life.

As soon as the thought came to my mind, I shook my head in disbelief. Why did I feel I was an old woman?! I just turned nineteen about two months ago and I’m wondering about my life?! At first, I was confused, then I tried to derive some sort of reason.

First, I put it on my parents because I felt they talked much about having grown old and not finding this or that interesting anymore. That might be part of the reason but, as I realized later, definitely not the real cause.

It’s because I am no longer interested in or impressed with the latest fashion trends (disappearing fabric) displayed by models, or famous TV actors and actresses. In fact, I’ve even cut myself off from music that I liked… that played a big role. My mind is trying to focus on a serious reality, trying to discipline fantasy while retaining my own identity, my creativity. I try to observe and move with caution, rather than play my way through life without caring for the consequences.

The youth of today experiences such thought and change of focus after thirty, even forty. That’s probably why I can’t consider myself as part of that crazy, carefree youth anymore and the only logical category is the ‘above forty’ bloc.

True, I didn’t like the feeling of oldness that I experienced for a second. But now that I’ve analyzed the cause, I feel much better. My faith and my opinions are not to blame and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The blame lies with me for thinking myself as old. Perhaps in relation to my fellow teenagers, I judge myself as old and wrinkling. I differ in thought and automatically, I differ in age? That should not be so.

Hehe, it’s quite funny too, in a way. Maybe I’m over-reacting and it’s just because of the cold winter and silence in Tabuk. Maybe it’s because our friends in Tabuk have all gone on to other places and we’re the last ones to move. The rooms in our apartment echo with past laughter and memories of a sweet childhood. When we drive around the city, familiar landmarks, old parks and markets remind us of times… of friends who moved on. Perhaps it really is time for us to go too. Perhaps this parting from a secure place is like death to me. Perhaps I feel I’ve grown old and my time is come.

It was a sweet, wonderful life, with the good and sad moments all together. Now that I’ve spent it, it seems like a very small period.

Already I understand how people will feel about their life on the Day of Judgment! A day or a day-and-a-half at the most!