By Ava, January 10, 2019

Rubik’s Image

The man across from me on the train was fiddling with a Rubik’s Cube.

For a second I forgot where I was,

mesmerised as he clicked the coloured squares into place,

and I thought about how when I was a kid I’d given up on ever solving my Rubik’s Cube and peeled the stickers off instead.

Then I remembered I had to make it look like I wasn’t staring.

It’s not like Rubik’s Cubes often crossed my mind, but something about seeing a toy, teetering on the edge of becoming a relic felt like an anachronistic blip.

Not quite an antique, but not really new either – on the precipice.

I thought about how I was also kind of dangling on the precipice, not quite a child anymore but certainly not an adult,

and all the lessons I’d had to learn were not as easy as peeling the stickers off and rearranging them – now I actually had to solve the puzzles.

I had to lose people that I loved and fumble my way through finding new loves.

One afternoon goes from crying on the floor to dancing on the table in a snap, and I knew it was always going to be messy, but I guess I didn’t anticipate the magnitude.

I’m reaffirmed by the lady in the grocery store that no one really knows what they’re doing

and that there’s still plenty of time to solve my Rubik’s Cube.