I believed time was never ending. That no matter how much you lost, wasted or spent of it, you could always get it back or get more. How you would get your precious time back was unknown to 6-year-old me, she just thought you could. I didn’t see time pass, I couldn’t, I mean, it’s a concept (try explaining that to a six-year-old). You can’t touch it, you can’t see it, but you can feel it.
At the age of six, I was fascinated by childbirth. I was deeply curious about all the ways babies leave their mother’s womb and the impact this had on mothers’ bodies. I thought it would be easy-peasy to achieve my dream of becoming an obstetrician. Afterall, how hard could it possibly be to cut someone open and remove a child?
Next year, I earned a trip to the orthodontist following a bone structure analysis by my dentist. They figured my jaw was irregularly shaped and needed preventive treatment before it got worse. I soon found myself in the orthodontist’s waiting room every other Saturday. This quick change of worlds led me to believe I could also become an orthodontist and help children whilst getting rich.
The year following, I was already over the whole fixing teeth and jaw thing. Can you blame an opportunistic eight-year-old? That year, I thought conquering the world was nothing short of what I could do. School? Too easy. I was three years ahead of my peers. Friendship? I had a blossoming friend group that only got bigger as the primary school years went on. Family? My parents and grandparents lived under the same roof in a recently bought house. I wanted to become the next prime minister. Hell, I was aiming for president of the U.S.A.
I look back at myself, even though poor and oblivious, I had a passion for life that can only exist before your first decade on earth is complete. It’s the kind of drive that would push winds, move mountains, cross seas and rise oceans. It’s that kind of fervor that the world lacks. It’s the kind of tenacity I wish I kept.
Ambition is hard. Nearing my twenties, I have gotten nowhere close to what six-year-old me wanted, not any closer to what little me wanted 12 years ago and certainly nowhere near to becoming the president, of anything. My second decade on earth has been filled with inertia. At times, I’ve felt like I was moving backwards.
The truth is, if time could be bought, I’d be filing for bankruptcy. I wish I was right. Could I buy my time back, I would be an obstetrician, I would be a dentist, I would be the first female president of the U.S.A…but most of all, I would make sure to not let myself down a second time.
