SHARDS OF IMAGINATIONS
ONCE UPON A TIME in a land far up north where the sun’s rays find hard to reach, and the winter likes to overstay, a girl was born. This was a strange child because she refused to be born until her parents left everything they knew in sunny Africa, and take to this unknown,northern country. She refused to be born until the clock struck midnight, and went eastwards of it by 9 minutes. She refused to be born until the last year of that decade,and then the first of the last month. You see, she was very sensitive so she had to wait until the din of the other babies’ births died down for the decade, for her safe arrival.
But years passed and she forgot the arrangements she made to come to this earth. She got lost in the ruckus and confusion, and had to fit in to not be lost. Each year, she’d have a faux-birthday in May, in her mind, because she didn’t want to be the last, and she wanted to be apart of the din and party of the other babies’ birthdays. She secretly hated her tardy birthday. It always went by unnoticed because it was assumed everyone had theirs. She was always in a state of limbo, having a birthday she didn’t want, and wanting a birthday she didn’t have.
Until one year, when she found herself again. All of a sudden, her faux birthday wasn’t so appealing anymore, and she looked forward to her tardy birthday, the one she wished she didn’t have but now accepted, because she could wait. No rush. She was a fierce tornado and her tardy birthday slowed her down. Calmed her down. Anchored her. She let go to get lost.
“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,
but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but
for the heart to conquer it.”
— Rabindranath Tagore