When the Last Seven Minutes of Your Life Play.

by Tasfia Tafanum 

Thank you for helping me grow into a large canopy of trees when you haven't received half the sunlight in your life. Maybe some day I'll understand every amount of anxiety or fear or worry you've had - maybe then it'll be a lifetime of gratitude knowing I finally get to be half the person you are. To mom and dad. 

What is the most beautiful part of growing up?

A random smell near someone's fireplace, the sight of kids playing together, one memory leading to another - one from your childhood. A bird you've seen quite literally every single day when you were a child. A toy your 10 year old self could never let go of but now sits lifeless in your garage cabinet. A friend you don't see often anymore. A mother you now call only twice a day - I thought I cannot breathe without her next to me but the thing is - life humbles you with your own theories until you realise that the point isn't the dreams you painted in your kindergarten book but the burden of reminiscence.

So when the last seven minutes of your life play in your head, it'll all be only memories -but that's collective. What do you call all of that in a singular word? Nostalgia.

It's the weight of it you carry with you every passing day. Because someday, it'll be the last. The last time you'll read a book, sit somewhere, talk to someone, eat something, hold a hand, hug someone, or have a conversation, or wake up to chaos and laughter. Maybe you thought everything will live on and it's all forever and that's when one day, you will no longer experience it- at a random store you'll be reminded about it in a wave of bittersweetness and a sorrow so quiet, it'll turn you numb. And make sure you remember that well. 

I've read children's books lately and everything there feels so vibrant and warm. So big and happy - like every story is painted with a smile. I think the biggest problem is that they never show how big the world is outside the shell of just happy memories and the playtimes during the school break. Because once you hit adulthood - you want to just go back. Back in time to how it used to be. When life was much more peaceful. When everything was placed right in front of you. When you would sleep next to your sister and wake up next to her. When you would spend all your time playing blocks and carrying your pink school bag and choosing the color of your tiffin box. 

They paint your world with yellow and pink but slowly more colors keep getting added. One day you're 15, you realise it's blue. One day you're 18, you realise it's black. And at 22, you realise it's purple. And someday, you realise you've tasted the whole spectrum.

Nostalgia will tell you that all the colors need their own time to reach you. It's okay to feel blue. It's okay to feel yellow. And it's more than okay to feel both at the same time.

So taste it like the first bite. Smell it like the first rain. And hold it like the first hug. Because once you're here, there's no going back. Grow well, eat well, be well. Smile more often, cry a little less, hold hands, love authentically, be grateful. 

“One day, you'll return to this very soil, and I hope you remain safe in someone's heart. Especially in someone's memory. 

I hope you remember me with a heart that feels light when you see me in your dreams. I hope you dream a lot. I hope you remember me with a smile, with a lot of love - and just a little less sadness here and there.”

for The Exclusive,

Tasfia Tafanum