The Little Things

One cold night, you’re all alone in your room, taking a break from all the stress the world placed on you. You can’t help but notice the slight pitter-patter of rain in your window as you cuddle snugly in bed.

You somehow manage to frown, thinking that time is progressive. At times you want to stop the clock—or at least slow it down a bit—you can’t, unless you want it to ruthlessly leave you behind. Life moves too fast.

You remember your childhood. You realize that life won’t be as easy as it was when you were 5, or 7, or 10. You wish you to be young again—that getting a lollipop would mean the world to you; that hugging your teddy bear as you sleep instantly safeguards you from nightmares.

All of a sudden, it comes to a halt, and after 2 milliseconds or so, heavy rain comes crashing down.

Then it hits you. You’ll never be young again. The reason why you couldn’t go back is that you’re meant to move forward. Each passing day is a step closer to your destination, and every step comes with a huge set of challenges.

The rain decides to stop. A rainbow emerges on the horizon, and you suddenly feel lighter.

You realize that life wouldn’t be the same if you were always a kid, if you always had the world to yourself, if you hadn’t moved on. You’re a big girl now, and you can handle anything you tell yourself you can handle. It’s amazing how small things could make you understand the big pictures.

After all, you could still cuddle up in bed with your teddy bear; you could still enjoy the majestic presence of the rainbow in your room.

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