Forty One

While watching this TV series, I come across this quote:

“Knowing what would happen; the heartbreak, the tears, the love, the hope, the betrayal, the heartbreak. Yes, there was always the heartbreak. Would she do it over? And she knew; the answer was ‘yes'”.

For long, long years, I’ve been caught up in that cycle of hope and disappointment. Why don’t I lose hope? Why don’t I just give up? Because giving up is not optional for me. Sometimes I wish it was, but it was not. And I cannot help but remember Morid AlBarghothy’s quote: “And hope pressures us as much as pain does.” More, believe me.

Forty One years old today. I think I had more peaceful moments in the past year. But the two most overwhelming feelings were gratitude and longing. One at a time.

Gratitude. I am always, always aware of His countless blessings. I often thank Him for my car because I suffered for long years in public transportation and am so grateful I have my own vehicle now. Am forever grateful for having two homes; not houses, but homes and the warmth and love I feel in both. For having my own place and space with everything hand-picked to reflect me. I am grateful for being able to breathe without coughing or needing a ventilator. For being able to drink water. For being able to eat what I want. For the family. For the irreplaceable friends. For work. For the prayers people shower me with. For the few comments I find on the blog and the messages of friends when I write something new, although I rarely do now. I am grateful I can see. I am grateful He threw the love of His book in my heart. I am grateful He reminds me to praise Him.

Longing. For that comfort. The safety. The small things. Never for sparks or glamorous events. Always for the small things. For the “under-your-skin” things. For that exhale of relief. But it is elusive. Whenever I feel I am close, it just moves a few lifetimes away. And the thought of giving up crosses my mind but only for a glimpse of a second before that silly hope takes over and I involuntarily keep longing for that comfort. That safety.

I have had more plants withering this year than ever. More dead leaves than blossoms. But I cannot stop getting more plants. Watering them and still wishing for flowers with that hopeless romantic heart. As I said, despair is not an option no matter how relieving it is.

My steps and heart are getting heavier by the day. And I know that rest is getting closer. And no matter how much I yearn for it, I know that it will happen in its predestined time. And I am trying to keep candles lit till then. To add colours to my and others lives till then. To smile and keep moving till then. And till then, I hope I can keep my faith and all the other blessings He was so gracious to bestow on me.

So, till then… here’s to life, and second chances, to persistence and consistency, to falling down a hundred times, and to standing up a hundred and one times, to withering plants and new ones and the prayers and childish joy for blossoms. To sobs and smiles. Here’s to hope… because, no matter how heavy it sometimes gets, there is no other way :)