5 more mins

When I was 5, i wished for 5 more mins to play in the sun. To lay in the grass with my daisy chain around my neck watching clouds floating by. Occasionally we would see an aeroplane drifting on by. But now I don’t play because I’m 10. When you’re 10 you ask for more time to watch. Watch your tv, ipad or iphone. You live on the screen. And dream of the day you can wear makeup and drive a car. You mix slime and play puzzles and card games. 

When I am 15 I wont watch. I’ll be. I’ll be a girlfriend. I’ll be a best friend. I’ll be a sports player. I’ll be a teen. I’ll ask for 15 more minutes to hangout and have fun. I’ll laugh at how silly the world can be because I’m at the midway between being a child and being a teen. One day I’ll be 20. I’ll want to be big. I’ll want to be married. I’ll want to be free. Maybe I’ll travel. Maybe I’ll study. Eventually I’ll have to work and when I do i’ll ask for 20 more mins to fit in more crazy things to try. 

25? Wow I’ve been 20 something for 5 years already? Time to wake up. That’s when I’ll really come alive. I’ll become responsible. I’ll become reliable. I’ll be punctual. I’ll be someone’s parent. Someone will be my child. The world will suddenly be cruel. Everything dangerous. For the first time I’ll love someone more than myself. I’ll ask for 25 more minutes to keep them safe and give them warm hugs.  

Thirty is when you have another. And suddenly you realise what exhausted and broke feels like. You’re filled up with love and drained out of energy. You beg for 30 more mins to sleep but you know its not coming. Deep down you don’t really want it because you’re afraid you’ll miss out. So you pass out awake and sleep standing up. 

You become conscious again at 35. Now they’ve grown a little and are less needy of you. You look in the mirror and wonder who are you? Somewhere, somehow you’ve lost touch with yourself. Now is the time to find the new you. So you take up some hobbies, you learn   a new sport. You volunteer some and life is great. You ask for 35 more minutes to squeeze in one more episode of your favourite series. 

And then you’re 40. You go to Makka. You perform your Umrah. You perform your Hajj. You tick the boxes to calm the storm that is brewing. The storm that says the time is coming. The departure time. When you’re born, your train leaves the station. Its coming to collect you. But you don’t know at which station it will appear. So you ask for 40 more mins to pray. Prayers to give you peace and acceptance. 

Happy Birthday 45. Yes every birthday you now celebrate because you’re alive. You eat well. You’re in great shape. You read more. You sleep more. You’re happy. You’re healthy. Alhamdullilah. Your kids start talking marriage. You’re gonna need 45 more mins to help them get grounded. They’ll need a job, they’ll need a car. They’ll need a house. You’ve been there, they need you to show them the way. 

Hello 50, how quickly you’ve come. One day I was 5 and now I’m not. I cant get a job. But I can start a business. Maybe I do. I still have the energy and also the time. 50 more minutes I’ll need to make some more money. Pension is poor and retirement isn’t cheap. Congratulations, at 55 you’re a grandparent. You’re filled with glee. You can love unconditionally and spoil ridiculously. Candy floss for breakfast and ice cream for dinner. 55 more mins to hug and kiss and hangout with my legacy please. One day they will be here and I will be gone.

60 is when you queue in the line. Pension please. Discounts and rebates please. When day hospital means spend the whole day at the hospital. You get meds for your meds. Lotion for your cracks. And medicine to flush and keep you regular. You try the alternatives. You swallow the seeds, the ridiculous teas. You suck, pop and annoint yourself to ease the coming of old age. 60 more mins please I’m almost at the end of the queue.

At 65 you’ve made peace with the new you. You’ve regulated your body and now all seems ok. It is what it is and it wont be what it’s not. Now you need 65 more mins to have tea with your friends. You talk about trips and people you know. The list has grown longer of people you’ve lost. You love your past and you celebrate your life. You can hear the train in the distance. 

You’ve reached 70. You’re grateful, so grateful. You pray for 70 more mins each minute of the day. Your grandkids now know enough that you won’t be forgotten. A part of you will stay. You’re ready to go but actually no not yet. You’re still afraid but now more accepting.

75 your mind starts to slip. You’re sure you did something. But did you? You didn’t. You say something you didn’t think and think something you didn’t say. Its all a muddle. Now you’re afraid. 75 more mins to be me. The me that I know. The me thats been my companion for so very long. But that persons going. Each day they visit less. 

At 80 you don’t care a damn anymore. You don’t know anyone. And you don’t like it here. Nothing tastes good. Nothing feels good. You’ve stopped asking for more time. Now you say take me God I’ve had enough.