Second Chances

Life, unlike any other is such a metropolis. Life, the only precious thing we have in this world. It is terrible to fear the only thing we have to look forward to everyday. To look at a street corner that we once grew up on, to the friends that once looked familiar.  And to be afraid of your shadow and see those familiar steps that you once took. I never understood how people lived in pain and fear. Women afraid to speak their minds, children holding guns; darkness; night; people afraid of people. This is what our world has come upon. I always believed that weak people were the ones who committed crimes and lived in fear. But none of the above ever touched me. So it didn’t matter, and I didn’t care.

Then on one idle tuesday, sitting in my car in traffic at 3:23pm,  it did. And when it did, to me time froze, and the feeling felt like it had been there all along. Waiting beneath the layers of everything I loved. And my skin crawled and my heart starting sinking and you look at the person you once were at that street corner in your past, and you wonder will you ever be there again …

How do you pull life back together? If you ask me, you don’t!
I believe you become someone else. A stranger within your own body. Sometimes it’s hard to love someone and let go, sometimes you wish you didn’t love as much, to ease the pain. Sometimes you just don’t know what to do or how to feel anymore…  Life, it’s funny and I wish at times it came with instructions and a 1-800-support line!  But I am sure the hold time would be infinite plus one minute.

I always read or heard somewhere that people get second chances in life.  I met a man once every day, same time, same place, and when I approached him up close, I looked into his eyes and knew what he was thinking, wanting, and feeling.  It was a very strange feeling for me to feel this from what felt like a stranger.  It was like I knew him, like he was a part of me, and as I walked away, the connection got weaker, leaving me with cold shivers running down my spine.

“What are you thinking about Daddy,” says a little voice beside me, and as I look down, it’s my daughter holding my hand.  She had been there the whole time, as we were walking through the market.

“Nothing sweetie, just trying to understand this man that I saw” I said to my five year old.  

1 2