For the past few days I’ve constantly been humming The Scientist again.
The title of this post is a part of the lyrics. But this post isn’t about the song and not about how much I love it, although I would like anyone who hasn’t heard it even now to go and do so.
(Like, now. Right now. Seriously. Stop reading.and go. Just GO before I accuse you of living under a rock.)
I want to tell you why this line has just stuck with me.
I think, everyone of us has at some point invariably wished to do exactly this. To rush to the start. To the way things, or people, or we ourselves used to be. I know I have.
For us, rewinding to various beginnings has become a sweet distraction.
We go back to the beginnings of experiences, friendships, relationships, to the beginning of loves. Parents go back to their teenager’s childhood, when their kid actually talked to them about everything. An old actress might to sit on her rocking chair, close her eyes and relive her glory days. A girl might recount the time when she and her best friend used to be inseparable, before she moved half way across the world. A war hero’s wife may wish desperately to go back to that day decades ago when her husband had first courageously tried his best to flirt with her in that restaurant, before they had married and he left for the place from where he never returned.
The possibilities are endless.
Most beginnings are beautiful. For some, what they led to might be the best part.
I don’t know why I’m writing this now. Maybe because eleventh grade turned out exactly as I thought it would. Maybe because some friends have become mere acquaintances. Remember I wrote about people who might turn into “just quick waves and half – hearted smiles in the corridors” ? They did.
And with each passing face of a friend that has turned into someone I barely know, I find myself at an old beginning.
I would like to thank anyone who reads this.
Until We Meet Again.