Tag: life

Somewhere Between the Worlds

Imagine a café somewhere between the worlds, where you can meet your lost loved ones.

You’ll sit down and order a drink, and then you’ll have a chat as if nothing happened.

Or maybe it’ll be a different kind of chat. The one where tears stream down your cheeks as you keep repeating, “I’m so sorry for everything” and “I miss you so much.” And they just smile and pat your hand, saying, “It’s okay”, and give you a tissue.

The sadness hiding in the corners of their eyes will tell you it breaks their heart to see you like this. And you’ll realize that it’s not what you came here for. It’s not why you were given this chance.

So you wipe your tears and order another drink, and maybe a meal too. And you say, “Hasn’t the weather been crazy lately?” Or “You know, the other day my car wouldn’t start, and I was late for work.”

And you tell them that your cat has been acting weird lately, and that you’re starting a new diet, and that the prices went up again. And how amazing the last book you read was, and that the rose bush in your garden is about to bloom.

You save those tears for later. For when you wake up and realize that of course it was a dream.

Although you know that of course it wasn’t.

Life Is Not Enough

All the books I want to read.

All the stories I want to write.

All the places I want to go.

All the things I want to do.

Time slips through my fingers, and I clench my fists until my knuckles turn white, but the precious grains of sand keep escaping. The wind picks them up and carries them away, mocking me.

“Catch me if you can.”

Of course, I can’t.

Another day gone. Another week, another month.

Another story left untold.

Another path not explored.

Isn’t it cruel—that here it is, this enormous, fascinating, delicious world—so tempting, so mouthwatering—yet you can’t bite off more than you can chew?

“There are no limits!” My immortal soul squeals in delight.

“Oh, yes, there are.” The earthly body glances at the watch. “No time for this today, my dear. We’re on a schedule, mind you. Chop-chop.”

They’ll come at night, in my dreams. Exciting, untold stories.

Wondrous, undiscovered places.

All the might-have-beens and could-have-dones.

They’ll leave me in the morning, as I open my eyes, with a pang in my heart and a faint shadow of regret.

Regret for what wasn’t meant to be.

What wasn’t on the schedule.

Chop-chop.

Things We Carry

People carry so much.

Our whole life, we carry something. And the older we get, the more our spines bend under the weight.

We carry bags full of shopping. School backpacks. Purses. Piles of textbooks. Suitcases. Boxes with our belongings as we move to a new place.

We carry our kids when they’re tired. We carry their backpacks, their toys, their scooters and skateboards.

We carry our pets to the vet clinic.

We carry guilt. Regrets. Nostalgic memories.

We carry self doubt. Grief. Fear. Anxiety.

We do carry our dreams too, but they are the lightest. They don’t weigh that much—so oftentimes they escape and disappear high in the sky like a balloon.

Our hands are rarely free of weight. Neither are our hearts and minds.

So sometimes we catch ourselves looking up at the birds roaming in the sky and a faint whisper of envy touches our souls. What would it be like, we wonder, to be so light and free? What would it feel like to soar among the clouds with no added weight?

And someday, we’ll find out.