Illustration by Marley Allen-Ash
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My niece, a tiny tornado, is visiting for the week. She’s stomping around the sand pit, leaving behind a map of unbridled energy with her footsteps. The rain has finally cleared, and the playground is alive with laughter. The air is thick with the scent of damp soil and wood chips.
Her brown eyes, bright with wonder, demand a turn on every swing and slide. As her uncle, I’m happy to oblige, trailing behind her like a devoted shadow, ready to catch her if she falls. Her chubby fingers reach for the cool dewy grass, the glassy smooth stones, even the crumbling wood chips. Each touch is a new adventure, a testament to simple joys.
My niece, just a crying blob a few months ago, is now walking, talking and showcasing her intelligence in the most adorable ways. At just a year old, she’s already becoming unapologetically herself. I hope she never loses that spark.
Watching her swing, carefree, I’m reminded of a world where sincerity is the norm, and the present isn’t encumbered by the past or future. Now that I find myself in the “adult world,” I hide beneath cynicism and self-preservation.
Somehow, a single trip to the park shattered the thick layers of masks I’ve worn. Beneath, I found a stranger exhausted by the weight of adulthood. My niece gave me the strength to finally break free. After all, “this ain’t no place for the weary kind,” as the old country lyric says.
That’s why I’ve kept her favourite pebble. The one she clutched tightly on our way back home, so proud of her perfect choice among the pea gravel. It’s a constant reminder of lightness amidst the burden of adulthood. With a sigh of relief, I trace its small dip with my thumb. I close my eyes, and remember to breathe.
My niece may wake up one day a stranger to herself, too. She may forget the girl who carried pebbles, who twirled in her new dress, who dared to be herself. If that ever happens, I promise to catch her like the devoted shadow that I am. I’ll remind her to choose her own path, just as she chose that one pebble that stood out.
I’d remind her that we are more than the masks we wear, or the burdens we carry. We can choose to be ourselves, to live without pretense. We can choose to engage the world, to embrace not only its grace but also its brutality with equal measures of poise. While this path is rewarding, it’s fraught with challenges.
Adulthood is a high-wire act. We strive to please others, but we become so consumed by their hopes and dreams that we lose sight of our own. It takes years to learn this balance, and recognize that a fall is only ever a misstep away.
Before my niece left, we spent the morning blowing bubbles in the backyard. As she watched their fleeting colours and shapes, she discovered their fragility with the slightest touch. Despite that, her joy remained undeterred. She continued to mimic my sisters’ movements, attempting again and again to create her own ephemeral wonders.
I may be old, but I’m not too old to learn from my niece. I’m not too old to jump back in the sandbox.
Watching my niece marvel at the popping bubbles, I realized that beauty, however transient, can survive the realities of adulthood. These moments of connection, of shared joy, may be transient, but they’re what make life worth living.
Growing older doesn’t have to become a series of compromises. So, from now on, I’ll choose boldness over reluctance, play over gloom, and curiosity over stubbornness. Why just exist, when you can finally decide to live?
Arash Sharma lives in Montreal.