The biggest lie a society feeds us with is It is Already too Late.
The question is it? Is it ever too late. A woman in her 40’s wanting to have a child . A man in his 30’s wanting to take up his studies he left because of his family commitments. A business man wanting to learn another language. A woman wanting to take up painting after her kids get married.
All have one thing in common, being told it is already too late.
Life begins today, life is living itself through you. You have faced your struggles. Your path is yours. You have already been too hard on yourself. Dropping out of a course you worked hard to get admission in. Leaving behind a dream. Giving up an ambition.
Don’t extend your hand to someone who wants to hold it just to pull you down. Don’t let anyone decide your fate.
Don’t let anyone convince you that your time has gone.
Your time is now.
Love yourself like no one has ever done. Buy yourself a gift , why wait for someone to do it. Find yourself. You are waiting for You. Don’t wait for a knight in shining armor to look out for you and save you from your fears.
I met a man, sitting outside a bakery. It was a new place that came up really close to my home. Smiling. Content. Days passed. Whenever I went to that place in the evening he was always around. Out of curiosity I started visiting that place often. Breads, cakes, occasional puffs and pastries all were bought from there.
Few days ago , to my suprise I couldn’t trace his presence. This continued for a while. Till a picture of his was found hanging at the counter .
Later I got to know. This man was a retired bank officer. Way back in time when he got married and had children. Dedicated, diligent. A man who commanded respect from his seniors and juniors alike. Never for a day he shrugged his duty. Time passed.
It always does.
His wife fell sick. Age does that to many. One night, holding her hand soothing her. Calming her in the pain she was bearing he told her a little secret.
I wanted to be a baker. There was a man in my village,he baked the best bread ever. My mother used to take flour , sugar and butter to him. Holding my hand. We got our cookies baked from him. I used to sit next to that brick oven. That smell. I still can’t get it out of my mind.
Sitting there holding her hand he realised that flowers, gifts, chocolates don’t matter. This matters. The love. The time spent together. The memories. They matter.
Her last wish was for him to open a bakery of his own. How could he it was already too late.
Says who? She asked
And she slept peacefully that night. Forever.
He mustered the courage. Took a loan against his home. And fulfilled his dream. What did he have to lose. She was already gone.
That smile everyday on his face, was a Thankyou from him to her. For teaching him.
Its Never Too Late.