Money will come again; time will not

Remember the time when crying over a scraped knee was the subject of concern?

Remember when summer appeared with the first rays of sun, and running barefoot in the grass was pure bliss?

Remember when frustrations in school was about writing the letters correctly, not about whether you got the grade or not?

Remember the time when family time was a given, not something to be planned out in advance?

Remember when all you wanted to become was an adult? And now when you are, the worries of childhood are longed for, wanted for their simplicity, missed because of their carefreeness. 

I sometimes look at children and admire them for their ease of life, for their tolerance and curiosity, for their fearlessness and the way they’re truly themselves. They have no dilemmas other than who will be their playdate of the day. They rarely invent issues of great importance, seldom create quandaries for themselves, and I truly admire this way of simply living with what life gives. I have come to appreciate their playing through life more and more lately, especially when I now find myself dealing with a dilemma. Or rather, I find myself posing a dilemma for myself, not trying so much to solve an external problem forced onto me. 

This is a first-world problem. Perhaps I wouldn’t even dare call it a problem. An obstacle, a fixed mindset I must escape. I am taking a gap year—thankfully enjoying it as the society in which I live accept my taking a break from the race of education—and have come to face something truly adulty: Money. How to spend them, how to earn them, how to responsibly save some, use some, give some, and invest some. 

I have always been a bit frugal—would rather see green numbers in my account, dreaded the red. But since I also want to explore and experience during my year off, I am slowly learning—perhaps relearning—to just live with what life brings. If I want to try this programme, I will, whatever the cost. Maybe not “whatever” but to some cost. Like the children, just doing it, risking something, but getting something out of it. If I want to travel somewhere, I will, because, I have come to realise, money will come again; time will not. 

So, I am learning from the young minds: To embrace the opportunities before you, because if we don’t, what will we have in the end? Maybe a great savings account, but will there be any memories to tell stories from? Certainly, money is crucial if I want to do this or that, but I am, instead of worrying myself sleepless about the red numbers in my account, finding myself taking advantage of my time, knowing full well that the red numbers will somehow be balanced by green ones. Because life has a way of making ends meet.