5.00 p.m. on a Wednesday.

Processed with VSCO with hb1 preset
Processed with VSCO with hb1 preset

To KDN.

20.04.2017: “If we knew what the future had in store for us, if we knew we had something to look forward to, then maybe it’ll make holding on that much easier”.

its 5.00 p.m. on a Wednesday, 2027.

We drive through for tea.

In some ways, nothing has changed.

Neither of us bothered to ask where we were to meet – we drive straight to the usual place and the first to arrive places the order “two cups of chai, please” – so it would be warm enough and reach hug-in-a-cup temperature once the other arrives.

In so many ways, nothing has changed.

But the cinnamon sticks in the chai have shrunk, ten times over. They should have just taken our advice and recycled while they were still in abundance. Oh, well. At least the rest of this concoction hadn’t changed. At least, I assume so. its hard to tell if the taste has changed when it comes to something associated more with a different time of our lives. I thought i remember the chai being much sweeter, but then again, it must have been that life was much bitter back then.

But in so many ways, things had changed.

Sitting there, staring at all calming combination of black and white with a touch of green,  the place wasn’t as silent as it were. Now, there were three little ones running around, so excited to see each other after 2 or 3 days, while we were exchanging work place stories.  Work place stories had come a long way since “I hated work today”. With enough tears, screams, fights and the right amount of fairy dust in the form of hope, hard work and precision, we had made our dreams come true.

We still have our bad days – missing the person we were, missing the person who made us. But, on 5.00p.m. we’d rush home exhausted with work but excited for Act 1 Scene 2; the role of the mother & wife.

We’d run home to the arms of the one person who stuck around, the one person who was always there. The only exception that saw all the dark corners and wasn’t scared off. The only person who stuck around and held our hands while we navigated the storm and deserved to watch us shine with the brightness of all the constellations. The only person who fought enough for to save us from ourselves and earned that forever after.  We’d run home to the little hands reaching for a hug and saying “Ma”, and everything – just about everything was better than it had ever been. Over and over again, every single time.

We still have our bad days – but we made it through worse, we made it through much worse before. We’ve gone ten feet deeper from rockbottom and waged wars inside our heads to save ourselves.

We sat at the same table and promised to hold on, promised to fight the battle, cure our scared minds to be here today, sipping on this chai with three little brats runnings around.

It 5.00p.m. on a Wednesday, 2027 – and I’m glad I held on.

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