shifting gears

maleka kakkar

TODAY, I PASSED MY ROAD TEST, SURPRISINGLY. As I sat behind the wheel alone for the first time, I shifted gears, quite literally, from pedals to engines, from bikes to cars. As I drove alone, there was a rush of excitement, a sense of liberation intertwined with a tinge of nostalgia. 

In my rearview mirror, I caught glimpses of a time when the world was simpler, when the biggest decision of the day was choosing which ice cream flavor to have. It was a time when the wind in my hair wasn’t from speeding down the highway, but from running in the parks with my brother, where the only worry was making it home before dark. 

With each mile, I felt a piece of childhood slipping further away, replaced by the weight of adulthood’s expectations. I realized I’d never ask for a playdate or be carried on my father’s shoulders again. I realized I couldn’t go back and relive my childhood, no matter how much I wanted to. 

As the car radio blared, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over me. I longed for the days when my family would belt out our favorite songs together as I stuck my head out of the backseat, pretending I was in a music video. 

Using the steering wheel and brakes solidified the fact that I am now in charge of my destiny. I have bigger decisions to make about things other than what toys I’ll be getting next. The choices I make can affect the rest of my life, and I have to take full responsibility for my actions. 

Once I parked in my driveway and the lights came on, I remembered the times I would make my parents turn on the hallway lights at night because I was scared of the dark. Fear only existed in the shadows of my bedroom, and my parents would let me sleep in their bed for the night. 

As I sat in the quiet cocoon of my car, where I should have been excited to start this new chapter of my life, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss. It was a different type of pain to let my childhood go because I never realized when it was gone.