This morning, I sat in our den looking through the living room windows that my Dad is anxiously waiting to cover with newly-bought shutters. The snow was falling, lightly, silently, gently, covering the window sills with in a white, powder puff. There was a tranquility about it, something that I felt deep within me but that I couldn't quite discern when I had felt that same way watching the snow. Minutes later, it dawned on me. It was a the winter of 2010 and I had gone skiing with Sarah's family in Whistler. Not a care in the world and the whole world ahead of me to explore, I was as carefree as a hawk in the fields, enjoying every wintry, cold moment to its fullest but feeling warm and loved all the while. Skiing a full day, coming back to a traditional, wooden log cabin with the people you love and care for, sipping on hot chocolate and whiskey, going to bed with the woman you love and cuddling up to her warm and supple body while drifting off into a long, deep sleep. That was when I once watched the snowflakes fall from another window as I lay, stomach-down, on the rug, close to the open fire studying from my Spanish textbook. It was another time, but a happy one.
Presently, I am watching these light flakes descend slowly to the ground of the library parking lot. My view, the large and tall rectangular windows of my local, public library, 5 minutes from my parent's home. I am not sipping whiskey and hot chocolate, I am not with anyone but myself, and I am about to open my Verbal reasoning notebook to start studying again for the MCAT, the medical entrance exam. It is a feeling that I can only describe as what it might feel like to have won the lottery a few years ago and then have lost it all gambling foolishly after which, you find yourself broke and alone, sitting only with memories of something that once was. Am I sad? No, I don't think so. Am I lonely? I am not sure I would say lonely, but I do reminsce from time to time about those days, a feeling of love and longing that I am sure will come again any time soon. (that was a typo but I'll leave it....something unconscious about that...)
It is times like these where people say you are meant to be alone. To forget about the past and stop living in it - move forward, but remain present. This is how we grow. To look forward is not always helpful, plan, yes, but live for the future, no. I can say this with full confidence. The past three years I was so eager for the future to come and to 'start' my life, I am now here three years later and part of me feels I wasn't present for the last three either. I haven't started anything. I have learned a lot though. Looking back isn't good either. I think of Sarah often. Too often perhaps. It is odd, I am not sure that I remember what being with her was really like, but I certainly remember how I felt. I felt happy. I felt in love.
Now, my outlook is different. Now, instead of looking back and looking forward. I am working on a day-to-day basis on being positive. On being respectful. On making others smile every chance I get and spreading good cheer, so to speak. Not just because it's the holiday season, but because if we are not positive and happy everyday, but good is life? What good is it to wait until we are? What good is it to hope that that day is 3 years from now, when in fact it isn't? It is now. I can't say that I don't wake up every morning to a what I like to call a drawn brain cloud. The type of cloud scribble that you draw with a black pen on white paper. A cartoon line cloud, tangled, convoluted, messy. Yep, it's like the Charlie Brown scribble is smack-dab and center in my mind every morning...but one day I will wake up soon and that scribble will be gone. That it when I will have forgiven myself and truly let go.
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