There was a Boy

Every good story starts with a boy. And this is mine.

I recently turned a year older, firmly in my mid-fifties, and began questioning every decision I made in life.

It’s something that probably hits everyone on a birthday. The questioning, the taking stock, the flashing of life before one’s eyes.

That night, I was doubting myself and grieving some paths I took that led me to my here and now.

I was panicking that the years passed me by and that the runway to make my dreams come true was shorter.

And in one of those sorrowful nights when the thoughts wouldn’t stop swirling, I did the one thing those who find sleep eluding them do.

I turned to Facebook.

And somewhere, halfway around the world, someone did the same thing. And it was that boy.

With darkness taking over the whole sky in my part of the world, the sun was probably about to break through the clouds in his.

He posted a video of his son singing. “If you had a bad day, you’re taking one down. You sing a sad song just to turn it around.”

It was an emotional rendition from a talented fifteen-year-old. It was his son singing.

And I broke down to pieces, shreds of glass shattering into thousands of minute pieces that catch the light. There was no one there to see it but that was me in tiny pieces.

And I didn’t know how to put the pieces back together.

I sat there and watched the video again.

“You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost.”

And I couldn’t help but look at the photos of his family- his kid, his workmates, and then his wife. These were the trips I was making, the smiles I wasn’t giving, the life I wasn’t living.

I wept.

I wept for the life I was not living.

I wept for the person I didn’t become.

*** To Be Continued ***