Through the Years

THROUGH THE YEARS By Abha Bhole 11G

1 year old. My wide brown eyes stare and blink at all that I see. This is a new country, so different from the heat and the dust of my birthplace. Here the air is cold and clear. The cold breeze brushes past my pale cheeks, turning them pink. I shiver in my pale grey coat and my hands tighten around the tiny blue bear. 1 year old.

3 years old. I sit cross-legged on the floor surrounded by pieces of a tiny toy kitchen. I chop and stir and toss, baking my thoughts into something delicious. I give it to my mother. She smiles and takes a big bite out of the air she holds in her hand. She tells me it’s delicious and then turns back to her own real cooking. 3 years old.

6 years old. My mother dresses me up in my school uniform and tells me how lovely I look. My father hugs me before I walk through the huge gates and see all the big girls laughing and chatting. They tower over me with their long hair, bright eyes and backpacks full of books. I feel smaller than I have ever felt before. Then I see them. The other girls just like me, looking around in wonder and fear. One of them catches my eye and smiles at me. 6 years old.

10 years old. I lie on my bed, crying because my best friend won’t talk to me anymore. I shut my bedroom door and block out my parents’ fruitless attempts to comfort me. She only talks to her other friend now who she has known for so much longer and I wonder if she had ever thought that I was her best friend, even if I had always thought that she was mine. I don’t have any other friends, at least none that I can ever talk to like I can talk to her. 10 years old.

15 years old. I sigh with relief as I finally finish the pile of homework on my desk. The holidays are near and in a month, I will turn 16. I feel like I felt on my first ever day of school. I mourn the loss of my carefree childhood, and I am filled with excitement and just a hint of dread. My heart feels warm as I look back on the journey I have made, and I laugh at the worries and troubles of my past self. They had seemed so huge at the time. In my mind I weave a rich, golden tapestry of my life so far and I pick out the jewel-coloured threads that will make up the years to come. I look to the horizon and smile as I know that whatever happens, I will prevail. 15 years old.