There is plenty of fish in the sea, they say.
And growing up, she believed this.
Growing up, she knew there’s a whole lot bigger world, a whole lot more people, a whole lot of discoveries waiting to be unraveled.
So now looking back at the twenty-five years of her life – twenty-five years of her existence gone – she wonders, is that everything? Was that all she was made to see, to feel, to cherish, to hate, to mourn, to love, to trust, to doubt, to hurt, to touch?
Was that all?
Her toes in the white sand, the white sand sprinkled in her body like talc, her body slouched and carefree, her carefree hair being swept in tangles by the wind, the wind moving inside her lungs, her lungs expand after what seemed the deepest breath she took in her life, her life playing before her eyes in the aqua that crashes every three seconds on her toes.
Was that everything?
She drew another breath. She has never been conscious until this very moment about the deliciousness of air moving through her soul like she feels the life and the fire in the veins in her limbs or the comfort the roughness of the sand brings to her skin and all her senses. She feels so strong but at the same time so weighed down. She sees the vastness of the sea – its blueness, its tranquility, its horrors and augustness under and she believes all over again what she has always believed in. The world is so wide – and so complicated. And yes, so beautiful.
She wonders have all women her age arrived at this point in their lives? Are we all programmed to come to a stage in our existence to literally sit down and evaluate the kind of life we led and what we have become as people? Are we all meant to question our fate and our plans for the future? Was it ever written in our books of life – if there’s such thing – that we are to feel helpless and clueless and strange that we actually have to research life hacks and subscribe to self-help emails? Does anyone even know how to really and truly live a life? Has anyone lived an optimum quality of life?
Is she supposed to ask these many questions?
Another gulp of air. The sun has just began to set.
Is the sun happy? Does she feel contentment in what she does? For the gazillion years that passed, has she ever felt tired, bored, rotten? Has she ever thought about quitting? If it was at her own will, would she still come out as morning? Has it ever crossed her mind to trade places with the moon? Does she envy the moon? Had she ever?
The sun has fully kissed the sea – her goodbye grand in showing what’s visibly left of her in utter radiance. She showcases her strength and majesty one last time in colors the woman’s eyes will always attribute to royalty – to thrones and crowns and scepters. And then she’s gone.
The sun is gone. But she’s going to be back in the morrow. She’s gonna show up regardless of how I feel about her and her presence. She will be there. She will rouse me to my senses. Her rays will tell me it is another day. It is another beginning.
And just like the earth, she will make me understand the meaning of limitless. She will have me comprehend without words. She will get me to think – again – as if I haven’t done enough of that in my lifetime. She will get me to digest that even if I am not as beautiful nor as bold as her, what we have in common is that we have unlimited beginnings.
And the beauty of it all is that I’ve no other choice but take it. #
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