When I looked out my bedroom window early this morning it was raining. It rained all day yesterday and I could hear the rain all night in my sleep. I love rain. I love it especially when I am indoors cuddled in my corner with a mug of coffee reading a nice book, or better still with my notebook writing.
Today is the first of November. Soon I will complete my first year as a widow. When I look back I don’t know how I made it through this year. To be honest everything that I did, I did it out of necessity. As I did everything expected of me to do, repeatedly day in and day out. It was as if I was walking a tightrope high above the ground just trying to get to the other side.
Necessity knows no magic formula. It was necessary that I wake up every morning and be there for my kids since I am all they have now, just as they are all I have in this foreign country that we are living in, away from our extended family and support. Almost a year later, and with all the changes in my life and the seasons, I might be wearing different clothes but feeling just the same.
Milan Kundera writes:
“What we have not chosen we cannot consider either our merit or our failure.”
Neither merit, nor failure. From having no time for myself to having all the time in the world. From having no time for a meal to having all the time to eat but not my loved one to share it with me. I wonder if I can truly bounce back to being my own self again. Not that it matters now that my priorities have changed. I am no longer a wife, but I am still a mother, and a person.
And all through the year last year I dreamed. It was necessary that I dream. It was necessary for me to imagine, to dream about things that had not happened in order to be able to breathe again. As Milan Kundera writes:
“We can never know what we want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.”