Of Moving Forward- Part I

Its like a glass half filled with satisfaction. Despite the feeling of loss I'm reminded by the smallest, sometimes nonexistent of things, of the path I no longer walk. The pebbles along the way must have stuck where I'd last seen 'em for they're still there, blurry, but visible despite my standing on the edge here, very much away. Time flies, they say. It should've had taken us, the slaves of it along as it flew. But we are, somehow, still where we'd been. Still there enough to pretend the time is our companion and that we'd never do it injustice. Of cheating it and ourselves.
This is now a new path I walk. Getting used to it will soon make it old. I'll again step out of the way. And I'll continue looking back at the pebbles I believe I own at this moment. I look in the mirror more often lately. And I like what I see. I'm growing up. The clothes I wear have a different scent than before. In fact, they do have a scent over them. I open the cupboard and take out my old tee, and I promise myself not to do this often.
I lie down, looking at these walls, missing something that they may call now old. One thing leads to another and all my ears make me hear are the voices, laughter and acts of innocence I was surrounded by back then. Old voices, old times. Older the laughter, older the times. I miss them and all the adjectives fail here to explain how much. I can always go back, either carrying along or keeping aside the growth that the time has gifted me. I wonder if it'd do the same, the oldness, if only it could manipulate all that I learned. I believe the oldness left everything it had to offer over the old clothes of mine and that is the smell I sometimes I die to smell, whenever I walk the roads alone. I promise, again, not to feel this often.
It aches inside my heart to recall. It aches to admit. This ache will get old. And it'll soon hurt less. The winds blow fast tonight and I remember, with a strange feeling, that the Summer is over. Its Monsoon and I'm given opportunities to feel things cold.
I look myself in the mirror and I pretty much like what I see, despite everything.