I happened to have the opportunity to sit in the rickshaw after a visit to a relative's in another city, the same rickshaw that I used to take for school and college. Sitting in the backseat, where it was the norm for me since 6th grade, I heard a hymn, as a soft, gentle breeze fondled my hair and patted my cheeks. The breeze carried memories from a distant past, rich with laughter, cries, fights, and random talks after school.
I remembered the girl who used to pass by with her friend our turf as I sat with my friend in the backseat, the exams discussed with him, the little arguments we had, and the clouds I had seen during rainy days. Memories flooded back of parent-teacher meetings, teachers, and the last time I was there. It all felt surreal and unrealistic. I recalled the crush I had on my tuition fellow because of mutual competition in academics. So much had passed, and I had lived through it, truly experiencing life.
Albert Camus nailed it when he said, "You'll never be able to experience everything, so do poetic justice to your life and experience yourself."
Additionally, I'd like to share a poem by Robert Frost that has stayed with me:
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
An interesting fact about Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" is that it was written in just one night. Frost reportedly composed the poem in a single evening while staying up late to tend to his ill son.
If you would like to share similar things or your own thoughts on the topic feel free to write a comment.