An orchestra of symphonies stringed together by the conductor called fate. Life, a combination of notes both high and low, that when played together sing a beautiful melody. As each chapter of our life comes to an end, we sit in front of a cake topped with candles and lit with flames, pushed towards it, to make a wish. A wish which is either too outrageous to come true or one which is undeniably predictable. Eyes shut in concentration and head towards the ground, we whisper for a dollhouse with Barbies in it. Now, as I sit alone with a cupcake in my hand, I plead for time to reverse back its tides.

We are welcomed into this world with joy, our parents embrace us and our lives filled with little joys and playthings. As time goes on we dance through the different phases, our first words, our first steps, our first day of school and the first time we scraped our knees. We spend our childhood wanting to grow up, dreaming about freedom, intoxicating. “I can't wait to grow up”, the fascination of growing up is always on the mind. Ironic isn’t it, because, as adults, we want to go back. "Childhood is a blessing". It is, is, isn't it?. The blissful ignorance and uncountable laughter. Childhood, a beautiful melody that brings you to a field of dandelions, running after colorful butterflies and picking flowers for your parents, the world an endless joy. And then, as fate raises his baton and hits the joy. The song has changed, leaving the field behind, the laughter has ceased and the winds seem to have turned violent.

Here, comes the phase that each parent dreads, teenage, when rebellion sets in and the quest of freedom becomes the sole purpose of life, rules and authority seem like change, challenging norms, oh what a glorious thrill. The strings are now battling each other for dominance, the melody now intense and dramatic. The sweet yellow dandelions I used to pluck as a child have now grown thorns, now stained with a tinge of red. Everything has become alit with a fire of rebellion, the tone has become aggressive, the words have become louder and as this phase reaches a crescendo, the melody softens down.

 The harsh playing has softened and the song takes on a new kind of rhythm and life starts moving to the beat of reality where responsibilities are to be assumed and expectations are to be met. Once again I am in a field of dreams, with a quest to achieve greener pastures. On my quest for greener pastures, accomplishments are tied to standards set by society, where once you fall down you are not picked up by the warm embrace of a loving parent, you have to pick up the pieces yourself and wake again on your own until you reach the bridge of success. Over the bridge stands your new lover, a beautiful bouquet, the sweet smell of dandelions now accompanied with romance.

I cross the bridge, I have now reached the middle of my life, cheerful smiles have become content smiles. The rhythm is content as finally, the strings find perfect harmony, no longer is the world on fire. The world has shrunk and my idea of happiness has taken on a different skin. The dandelions now sit in a vase in the corner of the room, in a room full of people, the laughter and chatter join the song.

It has not been too long now, the song now a gentle hum. My hair has greyed and my bones have become brittle. I find myself wanting to run in that field just once more, to run in between the dandelions and chase after the butterflies. Someone has brought a bouquet of my favourite yellow dandelions, the sweet smell now tainted with the scent of antiseptic. The song keeps playing on repeat but my thoughts become quieter, the EKG screams but my mind has reached peace. Fate raises his baton for the last time, my eyes close, the song of life finally comes to its finish.