What do you grieve?

entry three: i'm almost 20 and i'm grieving the decade that has passed me by

When I was 10, I had a Welsh teacher, Mr Llewellyn. I was his favorite student. He never said it, but I knew.

On the second day of Year 5, he asked us if we could spell his name. He said he knew ‘it’s a complicated spelling.’ I was the only one who got it correct. It was my greatest achievement.

The first week of Year 5, I was reading Little Women. I kept it on the upper right corner of my table. Mr Llewellyn asked me who my favorite sister was, I said Amy- it was Jo.

A month into Year 5, Mr Llewellyn asked me if I had read The Wind in the Willows. I said no, I don’t like reading about animals. I bought a copy the next day. I still did not like reading about animals.

At the end of Year 5, Mr Llewellyn asked us what we wanted to be when we were older. I said I wanted to be an author. Or Prime Minister- either works.

It has been 10 years since I have been 10. I grieve the decade that has passed.

I grieve being the smartest in the room. The obnoxious know-it-all who obsessively learnt a Welsh spelling I didn’t have to.

I grieve having an upper right corner on my table, one with a new book every 3 days. Books I was too young to be reading.

I grieve trying everything I didn’t like. Buying books I probably wouldn’t like, because it’s always worth a shot.

I grieve the ambition the decade took from me. The ambition that I would settle for Prime Minister if I for some reason couldn’t write like Louisa May Alcott.

I grieve Mr Llewellyn. He is alive yet, teaching at another school in Dubai. I grieve the space he made for my dreams. The lunches bought from his wallet when I forgot my Sacoor lunchbag.

I grieve not remembering the spelling of his name. Perhaps there was only one L and two Ns. Maybe an I and not a Y. I grieve my memory.