Nostalgia

Not so long ago,

Little things meant a lot.

Walking across the room,

Climbing a step of a flight of stairs,

Were big achievements.

As a few years passed by

I walked way more than a few steps,

But never alone.

With time I started to go solo

But never beyond the great bridge that separated the twin cities;

Crossing it for a family trip was always a thrill.

Coming to the present,

A journey across that great bridge is a routine affair, almost mundane.

I look at myself

And see that I have grown;

Far different from that little boy

Who walked a few steps to his mother's delight.

I now have strength to stand alone,

To traverse the greatest journey

With the goodwill, not the aid of anyone.

But every now and then,

I yearn for  those big thrills at doing small things

Until I realize with a sigh,

That age nor experience shall allow it anymore.