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  • Writer's pictureRawan


On the final day of the cold and solitary December, during a late plane ride to home, thoughts of you sparked a cascade of contemplative "maybes." The recollection of you stirred gently. Peering through the aircraft window into the abyss of night below me a dark ocean and I thought:


As I thought of you in the million possibilities of your existence or its absence, I looked at a photograph I had captured of you and maybe, just a maybe, you reside in a parallel universe where this specific image is yet to be captured, where you thrive in a different dimension, alive and content. There, you might be realizing your unspoken aspirations, perhaps even reconnecting as a child with your parents, revisiting the familiar grounds of your old home, and embracing the company of your siblings and time stand still.. and you never grew..


And I thought as I gazed into my childhood videos, perhaps I am still present in that time, where the recording is yet to unfold. Maybe, just maybe, time stands still in a static tableau, and I continue to exist in those moments of carefree play, drenched in sunlight while chasing water droplets, spending entire afternoons with my Barbie dolls. In that realm, I search for my father at the window, eagerly anticipating his return from work, and both of my parents remain youthful, untouched by the games of time..


And I thought maybe just a maybe I pondered the possibility that just, perhaps, I am still a teenager. Envisioning myself during a ride home from school, the rhythmic beats of music serenading my journey, life stretching before me in an endless expanse. Youthful and unguarded, the sensation of being both open and safe pervades the scene.. all the way home..


And I thought maybe that day when you were 19 might have existed solely within the confines of your mind. In this alternate reality, you lived in safety and tranquility, shielded from the storms of life. Maybe, just maybe, you navigated a world where seeking help was accessible, forgiveness flowed generously, and love enveloped you in its warm embrace.


And I thought maybe you studied abroad, and met people who you disagreed with, who intellectually stimulated you, navigated expansive horizons that seamlessly complemented your vibrant personality, remaining true to your authentic self, untarnished by the need to conform to others..


And maybe in another dimension, I possessed the courage to love and be loved with unreserved abandon, surrendering to the depths of emotion. Maybe, just maybe, I embraced the profound hope required for a spiritual journey, and you reside in a world beyond my reach.


And maybe just maybe you were not a glass child, and you were spared the need to feign toughness as though possessing it all while the world unraveled around you.


And maybe you haven't been acquainted with the profound lessons of loss, spared the somber ritual of attending funerals, and the weight of grief are foreign concepts..


Maybe, just maybe, the past and the infinite possibilities coalesce, creating a mosaic where our presence resonates with the same vibrancy as we do here and now.




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