In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Childhood Revisited.” Sure, you turned out pretty good, but is there anything you wish had been different about your childhood?
On my 50th birthday my daughter sent me a card that said, “Congratulations, you are now half a century old!” (Gotta love that girl) In response, my next thought, “I’ve lived longer than I have left to live,” resonated within my mind. This thought came as a surprise and a shock! I pictured an upturned hour glass, its contents dwindling to the bottom. Try as I may, I could not flip the glass, so each sand particle sifted its way to lay where it may, proclaiming “The past is the past.”
Therefore, in answer to the proposed question, I have to reply as the fifty year old woman I am today. I’m sure my response as a twenty something would have been quite different.
Then I would have traded the old house, of peeling paint, for a brand new, brick model.
My Mom and Dad would be diplomats, CEO’s, doctors and lawyers, anything but factory workers in a textile mill.
There would be plenty of money to secure my happiness and open the doors to glorious opportunities.
Thank God, through the years, I’ve matured and no longer see the world through the same pair of lenses.
After all, I have plodded 601 months, including 12 leap years for a grand total of 18,296 days. The numerous years, months and days have taught me to be thankful for my past, good and bad.
I now realize, the old house was a home that, not only, kept me safe and warm, but also enveloped the unconditional love of wonderful mother.
The textile mills provided a means for food on the table and clothes on the back. I learned to be thankful for the provisions. It also taught me compassion for those less fortunate and that it, truly is better to give than receive.
As a child I stuttered profusely. The shame and frustration I felt taught me to never give up. I have a voice and that voice should be heard. Desiring to be heard has also taught me to listen to others because their voice, though different from mine, is just as important and should be celebrated as such.
My childhood is gone. It is forever written within the annuals of history.
Our past is the past but know this, it is never silent. It loudly proclaims many a lesson. They who have ears let them hear.
Our past, good or bad, is not a curse but a blessing that leads to truth, and there is much freedom in truth.
What of the past? I would not change it. It has made me the person I am today. And 50 years later, I kind of love that person…finally.