The Race We Shouldn't Win
Talk faster. Walk faster. Grow up faster. Get to school faster, get through school faster, get a job, get settled. We keep saying it, all of it, like there's a finish line somewhere and the sooner they get there, the better we've done our job. I catch myself doing it every morning. Shoes, bag, breakfast, hurry, hurry, hurry. I hate mornings for exactly this reason. Not because they're hard, but because I become someone I don't recognize. A man in a rush, standing next to a child who isn't rushing anywhere, dragging him toward a clock that means nothing to him and everything to me. Then I stop and think, what am I actually rushing toward? Nothing that's mine to rush. He'll get to all of it in his own time. The only thing that's really mine, right now, is the chance to be here for the slow part. That's not something to get through. It's something to be glad I get to have. Avyaan draws for a while most days. I don't fully know what it is about...