he expected her to be that immature girl
he remembered vividly
disregarding that time had not spared her either.
As he had aged, she had grown older too
forgetting, slowing down in pace and memory just like him.
But, he only saw his aging, his non cooperative muscles and bones, a blurried future if any.
Rejecting her age, despising her energy wanting her to fill in where her mother had left; comparing her to persons she could not be; whose shoes she could not fill.
Whose land was she to till
until he acknowledged her right to be herself?
Nothing was perfect.
Nothing filled his expectations.
All she could do was silently rebel
refusing to get trapped in his time bubble.
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