Musings Before Bedtime: 20

by joanabagano

I’ve proven it true that there will be times when you’re caught up in a whirlwind and you don’t even know it. It’s when you’re, yes, in the eye and you feel peaceful while everything around you is violently trying to vie for your attention.

On July 2, I turned 20. I didn’t realize its significance then except for that shallow fact of the first digit of my age changing. One becomes two and I get added to a specific age range called the twenty-somethings. My birthday is an easy ticket to the world of these people who have written so much on themselves while writing for others while being written on.

Two months past and I find my heart suddenly beating fast at realizations of this decade I just entered.

Dim the lights and make me lie down on my bed with the electric fan whispering winds to my half-frozen body. Make me forget the homework I need to submit two days later, the breakfast schedule I need to catch tomorrow and the book I’ve been procrastinating for weeks now because I cannot relate to the character’s love for cats.

Allow me to think.

When I was ten, I looked up to the 20-year-olds and felt they must know everything about the world from who created God to how my mom bakes the best cookies to why the night makes me think of so many things.

Good night, my room mate tells me. Good night, my mouth says like muscle memory.

I am 20 now and still don’t know the answers to my questions except that I cannot understand God and this life fully because I am limited, because 20 and every other age there is is limited.

I do know now and it’s just now that I’m entering the decade where I will witness most of my friends saying “cheese” to the graduation photographer with diploma in hand, saying “more cheese” to the wedding photographer with spouse’s hand in hand and yes, no more cheese but a sweet smile for that little darling in their arms.

I see a small brightness light up across the room. My room mate reads something on her cellphone, smiles a tepid smile and closes her eyes.

The years will fly forward and on like birds that never return to their nest and I will see each of my friends going places, leaving places and staying where the good God means for them to be. Some of my best friends will marry men I have never thought to be good for them and still some will fulfill that love story I dream of. I don’t know about me but as Audrey Assad put it:

His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He’s watching me

I’m too excited for the next ten years. I turn my desk light on, feeling the need to finish L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Avonlea.

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