Some things you might never feel again
yet another listicle
On the tram yesterday, with my vision a bit hazy after 2 beers, so, slightly intoxicated, just the right amount, on the aisle next to me sat three girls. Over them stood their mother. Or so I assume. They sat perfectly. The oldest one on the chair the furthest away from me, then the middle one sat in front of her and the youngest parallel to me. We kept catching each other’s gaze. And she giggled each time. My favourite game.
I have been thinking lots about the power of eye contact. This one was harmless of course. Not the eyes you give to beautiful women or attractive men and hold it just for a second or two too long so they know it was intentional. Harmless. I kept looking away and so did she and then we would retract. I would smile and she would giggle time and time again. And as she did that she kept sliding off of the plastic chair she was sat on. She was so small, 4 or 5 I think, that she kept sliding off of the chair. Then I thought to myself that this is something I might never feel again. Chairs have shrunk over the years and each time I find myself touching the ground. I also started thinking that it’s upsetting, or some bigger word, that we only get one chance at everything, especially at time. But then I stopped myself, was the haziness talking.
So here follows the list of things I might never feel again:
sliding off of chairs, not touching the ground, being so small you might sit under the table during a family dinner and people finding it funny, of course it is funny
the soul crushing jab at your heart when you check your crush’s Instagram at 16 and they are engaging in a comment-conversation with someone they definitely like, and it’s definitely not you
being 16 in general
the joy of having a comment-conversation under an Instagram post, and feeling so jolly that other people will find out that someone thinks you’re special enough to engage in a comment-conversation under an Instagram post, this I think felt the way it felt because all these conversations happened when I was a teen, but also we’ve stopped using internet in this way
worrying about maths
being excited to pull an all-nighter
the pain of your legs growing, which would always happen just before falling asleep
being upset at not being sat at the adults’ table
faking being asleep on the couch so an adult would carry you to your room, very hard for core muscles, great workout in hindsight
having to come up with arguments / stories to convince my parents to do an activity past 10pm
not feeling bad about mixing and ultimately wasting all the shampoos and shower gels into one big glob and calling it soup
wanting to have more screen time
being excited about waking up at 6am for a trip, specifically a school trip
thinking that putting a book underneath my pillow, will help out with an exam next day, I have put my superstitions elsewhere
saying I will be the alfa wolf and not thinking about manosphere - this obviously would be said during a play date, wolves has always been a good game to play
waiting so restlessly to get a period to finally feel like a women - silly concept to want something so unimaginably annoying yet beautiful
thinking that parents are immortal
thinking that parents are faultless
thinking adults know best, or more, or have all the answers
This list, I’ve been compiling it for a while. But with some things, they only come to you in the right moments, and this is all I can come up with now. I’ve been realising there’s a faint line between not wanting to grow up and not wanting to take up the challange that is being the adult. I keep postponing some things, like understanding how to do taxes, or the annoying, yet very true truth that you can’t do all the things at once. But you can savour some childish things, and I’ll never take the word childish as an insult. I still wave to people on buses, cars - same as I did when I was a kid on all those school trips. Some things I won’t feel again, but the memory remains. And while sometimes it’s hard to revive the memories, the scraps of them, blow away the dust from keeping them somewhere hidden, a lot of memories lay around us, scattered - it’s just not us doing them anymore. It’s the three girls in the tram.