As I sat to write my super late blog post, one question I can’t help but ask is whether I would give anything to be a child again.

Being a child comes with its own perks. I loved being a child and still love being my parents’ child. But would I want to be a child again?

Absolutely!

And no, it’s not because adulting, as we all know, is hard but rather, because I would move mountains to relive some moments again.

My very first awareness of countdowns happened when we travelled home for Eid. Eid is a Muslim festival and for many Nigerians, the idea of Eid was closely tied to home, which is how we describe our villages i.e.,  ancestral homeland.

There were moments I took for granted. Moments I thought would last forever. Moments I counted down to.

I remember the thrill and excitement that came with those travels. My eyes would light up like the sun not just because I loved road trips and the stopovers that came with them, but because Daddy would always buy “gorigo” for my siblings and me. Gorigo was unlike any sesame seed I have ever eaten and was truly the highlight of every trip.

I also counted down to the festivity and the privilege of having a “home”, of seeing my family, of hearing my grandfather’s stories and of living the “village life” even if it was for days.

I recall also counting down to Daddy’s return from work or seeing Mummy’s face after school. Life really was simple and nice. My countdowns were easy. The little things mattered and they still do but somehow, my countdowns have evolved.

I have found myself counting down to tangibles and intangibles. The intangibles seem to come with adulting because sooner or later, we start to ask:

What next?

“What next” is simple yet loaded. It is a question that can either make or mar depending on where we are in life or what mental state we are in. But why do we ask it? Is this a function of adulting? Or is it because society has conditioned us to always be on the go?

Asking “what next” is important but it is also an opportunity to be grateful. To pause and witness the manifestation of our yesterday’s “what next” as today’s milestone. So, maybe the question we shouldn’t be asking after any milestone is “what next” but rather, “how does it feel witnessing yesterday’s what next?”

Words count. Sometimes, a shift in language becomes the dividing line between seeing ourselves as a success or a failure. The joy will pass. And the uncertainty will pass too.

So how about we enjoy the view while it lasts?