What are we so scared of?
She contemplated as she wrote.
Things were changing. Yes, they were.
Everyone was worrying. Parting was not something they were enjoying. But she?
She wasn’t supposed to feel as if parting is inevitable. She wasn’t supposed to be fine with never looking back. She wasn’t supposed to accept distance as a necessity of a progressive world and move on.
She wasn’t supposed to not be sad.
But she was.
Change was happening. And she was glad. Things had been the same too long. She had been not alone too long.
Now she needed to be. This is how freedom smelt. Dangerous, on the edge, scary but exhilarating.
This is what a country felt when it overthrew a ruler. Moving towards uncertain horizons but hopefully brighter ones.
This is what the child felt when it left the womb. From silence to noise, hoping it was melody.
This is what a butterfly felt leaving its cocoon. Unsafe but able.
And it was a beautiful feeling to hold. An adrenaline rush almost. And she wasn’t going to be sad about that.
She was going to be happy. She heard the knocks. And she knew who it was.
And as she walked down steps that were meant to be the last time she saw the love of her life, she hoped he was the love of her gone-past life.
Not her to-come life.
She contemplated as she wrote.
Things were changing. Yes, they were.
Everyone was worrying. Parting was not something they were enjoying. But she?
She wasn’t supposed to feel as if parting is inevitable. She wasn’t supposed to be fine with never looking back. She wasn’t supposed to accept distance as a necessity of a progressive world and move on.
She wasn’t supposed to not be sad.
But she was.
Change was happening. And she was glad. Things had been the same too long. She had been not alone too long.
Now she needed to be. This is how freedom smelt. Dangerous, on the edge, scary but exhilarating.
This is what a country felt when it overthrew a ruler. Moving towards uncertain horizons but hopefully brighter ones.
This is what the child felt when it left the womb. From silence to noise, hoping it was melody.
This is what a butterfly felt leaving its cocoon. Unsafe but able.
And it was a beautiful feeling to hold. An adrenaline rush almost. And she wasn’t going to be sad about that.
She was going to be happy. She heard the knocks. And she knew who it was.
And as she walked down steps that were meant to be the last time she saw the love of her life, she hoped he was the love of her gone-past life.
Not her to-come life.
