We never realize how much time we have wasted until we look and back and reflect. We start to notice the things we could have achieved in those weeks, months or even years. We spend time again regretting the poor decisions we made only for us to realize after days that we can't cry over spilt milk.
When l was a child, around 7 years old, every time we would travel and my father would let me pack my bag. Yes, a 7 year-old packing her bag. Well, l enjoyed it. Unlike my mother who would do it herself, if you try to suggest which clothes you would prefer to carry, she would look at you with the eye that says, "Please go away, let me do the work."
At one point, we embarked on a journey and my father gave me two bags. The first bag was for packing all the clothes l thought l would want. The second one was for other things l thought l would need. (The kind of things that my mother regarded as junk.) This is where l would go crazy. Knowing that we were going on a holiday for a month l wanted to carry all the toys and things l wanted to play with. I packed all my dolls, papers l had doodled on and all the empty containers. I recall l had picked up perfectly round stones the previous week and l loved them so much that I carefully packed them so they won't squash my other belongings.
I was allowed to carry the second bag on my own. With the excitement l had l felt like a grown up packing my bags with anything l wanted and finally being given the bag to carry to and from the bus stop. Going to the bus stop was the easiest because it was early in the morning, the sun was not yet up and my mind was occupied with all the holiday activities that l was going to enjoy. At that moment l wasn’t feeling the heaviness of the bag. I remember on one occasion l picked up a box along the way. I imagined it as a perfect dollhouse when l reach my destination. Now l wonder what my father was thinking all this while letting me carry all these things. With a satchel on my back and a box in my hand, l was looking forward to a great holiday.
The essentiality of my belongings would only be proven after we dropped off and started our walking to the rural areas. Not to sound like an old person but we used to walk for kilometres to get home, with the road passing through a mountain. Picture this: It's around 30°C and a 7 year old girl is carrying a satchel with a lot of dolls and stones and a cardboard box going up the mountain. Yes, that's exactly what it was like. After walking for about 30 minutes, l realized the box wasn't necessary at all so I threw it away. Now l was left with a heavy satchel on my back. Struggling for my breath, l remember my father suggesting that I throw away some of the unnecessary things l had in my satchel. It honestly sounded like a great idea. I threw them away and some of the stuff I deemed necessary.
I begged my father to help me carry my bag but he reminded me, “l told you to pack things which you thought you needed and know you will be able to carry.” With every passing hour, my bag was getting emptier. By the time we reached home, l was left with the Barbie dolls only. All the empty tins l had carried, paper boxes and aeroplanes l made, the multiple colour pens (that used to write but had since dried up), all of them were long gone.
Now as l reflect, l realize my father wasn't cruel by refusing to carry my bag, rather, he was teaching me a valuable lesson. There are things we think matter only to realize after some time that they don't matter at all. Sometimes it takes pain for us to come to that realisation or time will simply do its work. If only we can get rid of the baggage we are carrying so that our journey in life can become lighter.
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