I was older when I first noticed the seasons change,

when I first felt the

sharp chill of the winter air

prodding at my exposed skin.

I was older when I first watched leaves fall from trees.

One by one, leaf by leaf 

until nothing was left but a barren branch 

extending towards the sky.

I was older when I first noticed the white strands of hair

that dusted my father's head, 

and the thin lines that formed at the

corners of my

mother's lips when she frowned.

It was only when I was older 

that I felt the bite of words 

and the sting of stares 

from people unknown.

It was only when I was older 

that I noticed how long winter freezes could last, 

and how harsh the summer heat could be.

It was only when I was older 

that the sound of rain turned into thunder,

and puddles turned into oceans,

and hills turned into mountains,

where currents turned into riptides,

where battles turned into raging wars of destruction.

It was only when I was older 

that the fear of monsters under my bed 

morphed into a feeling inside of me that 

stuck to my heart like caramel taffy on 

one of those harsh summer days 

that chilled my bones like one of those vicious winters  

The kind of feeling that waits at the bottom of your stomach,

just like the monsters at the bottom of your bed.

The kind of feeling that never changes like the seasons.

the kind of feeling that I never felt when I was younger.

the kind of feeling that only existed when I was older.