Echoes of joy - by Sulihat Suleiman

As I stood at the airport, a baby’s laughter broke through the hum of the terminal, pure and unrestrained, echoing in the sterile air like a song of innocence. The sound wrapped itself around my heart, tugging at something deep inside me. I couldn't help but pause, a lump rising in my throat, as her joyful giggle wove a thread of warmth through the cold, indifferent space. Her tiny hands reached out for mine, her eyes gleaming with that simple, unburdened joy that only a child can possess. For a fleeting moment, I was transported to a time when life felt effortless, when laughter came as easily as breathing, and every smile was a testament to the beauty of the world. I remembered the days of my youth—those sun-drenched afternoons when laughter spilled from my lips without a care, when the world was mine to explore and every corner held adventure. The air was different back then—fresher, alive with the scent of grass and possibility. The world had seemed wide and full of promise. Now, it feels like a distant echo, like a song fading into silence. When did it all slip away? As I stood there, watching the baby, questions swirled inside me, each one sharper than the last. How did I lose that part of myself? When did the weight of adulthood quietly creep in, dulling the spark that once burned so brightly within me? Where did my laughter go? Why does everything now feel like it’s wrapped in a haze of worry and exhaustion? I longed for those carefree days—when the only thing that mattered was running with my friends under the open sky, feeling the freedom in every step. But that life feels like a dream I can no longer touch. Have I forgotten how to be happy? Have I buried that child inside me so deep that I’ll never find my way back? The baby’s laughter, once so full of life, now seemed like a cruel reminder of something I lost along the way. And for the first time in a long while, I felt truly alone—caught between the person I once was and the person I’ve become. Could I ever recapture the joy of those simpler days? Or would I forever remain a prisoner of this adult life, suffocated by the demands and disappointments that come with it? My heart ached at the thought of never feeling that lightness again, never knowing what it was like to smile without the weight of the world on my shoulders. The baby’s giggle faded into the noise of the airport, but the ache in my chest only grew stronger, a reminder that the joy I once knew was slipping farther away with each passing year. I wondered—had I truly outgrown it? Or had I simply forgotten how to reach for it?

Other insights from Sulihat Suleiman