It was her season for growing, or at least, that’s what it was supposed to be. She was in the “best years of her life”. In high school, she was going through some of the toughest times in her life, where she was discovering that life wasn’t fair and that her June exam marks would affect the rest of her education. She was torn between French and friends, between boys and books. She was no longer a child but was not yet an adult either. Life seemed so complicated and many days, she just wanted to stay in bed.
It was her season for loving, or at least, that’s what it was supposed to be. In University, she worked hard at her thesis, hoping to be accepted as an emergency room surgeon. She had discovered the joy of being in love and the pain of having her heart broken and because of it; she had lost her child-like naivety. She was no longer the sulky teen. She was now the overworked student. Twenty-four hours seemed too short for a day and she prayed for extended deadlines.
It was her season for living, or at least, that’s what it was supposed to be. She worked in the oncology ward of the local hospital and juggled work with her life at home with two young children. She had married the man of her dreams and lived a successful life, teaching her daughter how to dress up and tickling her son. Hers was a world of bedtime stories and clutching fingertips. She was no longer an exhausted medical student. She was now the busy working mum who missed Pap smear tests to go to Christmas concerts.
It was her season for laughing, or at least, that’s what it was supposed to be. Her children were growing up and she was re-experiencing the nightmare world of June exams. The man of her dreams had gone off with another woman, a younger and prettier prototype and she was left alone. Her nineteen-year-old daughter was going on and off diets and had started taking the Pill, while her adolescent son had stopped caring about dinosaurs, apparently overnight. She was no longer the hard working middle-class mother. She was now the confused single mum who watched her family from behind a glass window.
It was her season for relaxing, or at least, that’s what it was supposed to be. She was meant to enjoy retirement and spoil her grandchildren but was being left behind by technology. She had never taken drugs, yet her daughter worked in a teenage rehabilitation clinic. Wars were being fought all over the world and her mother had died after a long struggle with dementia. Her son was moving to Tokyo in the fall to work in technology and her grandchildren played computer games. She was no longer a mother who did her best for her family. She was now the old grandmother who was bewildered by the changes in the world.
It was her season for dying and that at least turned out as what it was supposed to be. “Where did the time go?” she asked her daughter as the family gathered in a small hospital room to say goodbye. She looked at her grandchildren and smiled. Then, finally, she closed her eyes and this time, the seasons were over.
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