I shake my head, rocking the chair more aggressively now, as if the motion itself might scatter these creeping thoughts, might loosen their grip on my mind. I can't let this negativity invade my peace, dictate the rhythm of my thinking.
But even as I try to suppress it, a familiar sense of loss edges forward - a quiet ache rooted in the years that have slipped away, pulling from me a part of who I once was: adventurous, curious, daring. That version of myself has been buried beneath layers of practicality and responsibility, resurfacing only fleetingly in conversations with friends or acquaintances before I hastily push it aside. It's easier that way. Easier than confronting the truth.
Even my tentative attempts at "keeping up with the times" have felt forced, almost alienating. Years ago, out of curiosity and sheer social necessity, I navigated the unfamiliar terrain of social media, stumbling my way onto Instagram. But I've never been tech-savvy, nor do I have the patience - or frankly, the interest - to immerse myself in stories, reels, trends, or hashtags.
Those are the currencies my grown-up children trade in now, squabbling about algorithms and influencers as casually as we once debated bedtime routines around the dinner table. Their enthusiastic immersion in the digital world often leaves me distant, watching wistfully as they tumble deeper into spaces that feel entertaining, and keep them glued to screens while disconnecting from the flesh-and-blood reality of being present.
It stings sometimes, but I don't intervene or thrust myself into their orbit. I refuse to be labeled as "that" mother - the one who won't let them grow up, who clings too tightly. After all, they're smart enough to navigate these spaces independently. They decide what's important, what's trivial, and they naturally update me with whatever they feel warrants a share.
I've become an observer, a satellite to their expanding world. Now that they've embarked on their own paths - my elder one carving a name for herself as a cinematographer in the film fraternity, and my younger one thriving as a financial consultant at a top firm - I catch glimpses of their lives only from the sidelines.
Their days move at lightning speed, packed with ambition and personal pursuits, leaving only fragments of time for fleeting conversations with me. The warmth of their desire to be around me feels diluted. Not gone but transformed - reduced to brief moments that are few and far between.