Never say never

She has always loved me, doted on me, ever since I can remember, taking such great care to hold me close. I cherished the way she tenderly caressed and wrapped me in chiffon, velvet and feathery thistledown, refusing to allow the cobwebs of time to mar any aspect of my delicate persona and spirit.

She took me everywhere with her, pausing wherever there was a mirror or likeness of herself, peeking in tenderly to make sure that I was still there, still very much a part of her life.

From zero to ten years old, she completely and joyfully enjoyed my company, running wild and carefree, enveloping me in her freedom and innocence, allowing me to just exist with her as a part of her everyday lifestyle. I think that that was when I was happiest of all, when none of the worries of her growing up mattered at all. We just enjoyed life and explored learning to be.

I remember how she cried at age eleven, when the first signs of acne and puberty made themselves known. She got mad at me then, her tantrums became my damnation. How could I do this to her, she shrieked, had she not been my best friend. My best friend shoved me deep down inside of somewhere where I was not allowed to see her, somewhere which felt like oblivion. I was so sad. It was not as if I had the definable or absolute power to change anything. I was just doing what I was made to do.

It was as if she misplaced or lost her trust in me, leaving me to be lonely and unsure of what I had unknowingly done.

I could sense her, feel her pain, insecurity and growing anxiety. Yet it was as if she had maliciously and deliberately forgotten about me. Still, I had to carry on doing what I did, seemingly unseen and ignored. That is what the whole purpose of my existence was, after all.

My friend cursed the mirrors, many mornings she threw fits when her mother insisted that she go to school, meet with her friends and just wait for the years to pass by, and adolescence became a phase which she could not have avoided. And so she sulked through the imperfections and the years.

Teenage coming of age became an obsession now, she was blooming like a lovely rose, each petal unfurling magnificently into a beautiful young woman. Make-up, boys and fashion awaited to be experimented with. Boundaries called eagerly, waiting to be pushed.

That was when she remembered our camaraderie of past years. She again sought me out, rescued me from that dark place that she had shoved me way down deep. She had ignored me, yet never really forgetting me. How could she, I was as much a part of her as was her life.

The mirror now showed a blossoming and vibrant image of youth at it's zenith of perfection. Now she was ready to conquer the world. Tempers flared, parents became a hindrance to youthful plans, they knew nothing of how modern teenagers and young folks wanted to live their lives. Youth, so precocious, yet completely oblivious to the fact that their parents were once their age and wanted too to conquer mighty mountains and swim distant oceans.

The twenties called, she answered, she roared.

The thirties rolled around and panic again set in.

Her need for me became an obsession, I fought hard for her, I did my best when the forties brought tiny wrinkles and tell tale signs that all was going to hell from now on.

The fifties and sixties beckoned. I must say she was a hardy one. Botox, exercise, a personal trainer and thoughts of professional help to stave off the inevitable. Yet there I was, just nudging her along to that which she could not change.

Finally, she accepted her existence for that which it was, decided to finally say goodbye to me and go gracefully into the next phase of her life.

Yet, she still agreed to hold on to some aspects of me, never completely forgetting the great times we had together.

Have you guessed who I am yet?

I am her YOUTH! Unfortunately, she could only hold on to me for so long.

Still, I admired her tenacity, for she kept fighting for me. Just how long can she persevere, keep holding on to the fragments of her youthfulness?

I told her to fight for me to the bitter end.