To grief and loss I am no stranger

For all I’ve done my entire life is lose and gain

I walk underneath the Saturnian Moon

And it dawns on me 

That I’ll never be 5 again. I’ll never be 10 again. I’ll never be 15 again, I’ll never be 20 again. Every day, every moment is dust blown in the wind. The passage of time is a never-ending gust that I will never keep up with. 

Here I am, having grown so much. I feel, for the first time in my life, like I am truly entering adulthood, and how I mourn. How I mourn for the folly of my adolescence. What felt like my entire world, colossal then, has collected as snow globes on the cluttered desk of my psyche.

I hold my younger selves. I shake the memories and discover new specks that glitter in the light of my consciousness. I inspect them from different angles and see things I didn’t notice then. 

But all of these selves are forever gone. I permanently bid them farewell as I give a warm welcome to this next chapter of my life. Wow — birth and death really are the same, are they not? Every beginning an end, all ends a beginning.

Tonight I mourn my childhood. It is a bittersweet farewell. Things are so different now. 

I know my future self looks back on me similarly now. I hope he’s proud.

This life has passed me by so quickly. 

You wanna know how I know each moment, each hour, each day is precious?

The value of a resource is determined by supply and demand.

Today will never be lived again.

Yesterday will never be lived again.

The day before will never be lived again.

They all happen and occur exactly once. They are all collector’s items, gems, one-of-a-kind — and thus, priceless.

Why do we squander our wealth? Why are we too often prodigal children who spend our inheritance with the pen of folly signing checks?

No more. I return home and am celebrated. We are all the richest beings alive by virtue of this holy gift that is a beating heart. Our treasure chests are our chests — the prized gem within is that ambrosia-pumping organ.

I weep and mourn at the death. Oh, how I’ve changed, how I have grown. I stare adulthood in the face. Working full time. School full time. Soon to move out. So much is different. So much is different. I love all of it, do not get me wrong — it is equal part celebration and grief. 

But I truly feel like I’m saying goodbye to a part of myself. My younger self. Or perhaps I’ve already said goodbye, and now I look back at an old friend whose acquaintance I am no doubt romanticizing —