This time around

This time around, I will do it all differently. I will take all the sorrow away, and I will keep the joy, the laughter, and the sparkle of each and every great moment.

I will know that I don’t know. That what I believe it might be the end of this day, may turn out to be a completely different ending. Because we don’t know. Because life does surprise us, because we’re not even supposed to know it all … where will it be the wonder, then? It’s comforting to accept that we can only do that much: wake up every morning and take a moment of silence for ourselves. Feel whether we are still in connection with our true selves, ask whether the rain outside is really to be blamed for our feeling unsecure to stand up and start a new day. Don’t blame the grey sky; rather ask yourself why you have forgotten the sun is always there.

Of course we don’t see far along the way. How could we know it all? Today you’re sixteen, tomorrow you’re eighteen and one of your parents may have passed away. Today you’re eighteen, tomorrow you’re twenty two and the university you might have just graduated from, turns out to have been a waste of time. You choose the next one, hoping this would bring you closer to who you really are, to what you really want to do. Today you’re twenty two, tomorrow you’re twenty seven and you’re at the top of the world, or at least you believe you are. Today you’re twenty seven, and tomorrow you’re thirty two and you have lived, and loved, and won and lost, and tried and failed. Today you’re thirty two, and tomorrow you’re thirty nine, and seven more years would have passed just to give you the chance to learn, that you don’t know it all. It comes your turn to give back to your children. What would that be, that very one piece of mind and heart, that you would choose to pass on to your children?

I would tell mine that there was a time when I had fought too hard, for my own good. When I was too young and self-glorious to believe I could turn the world around; as if the world would just be sitting there, waiting for me to tell it how I wished it would go. So foolish, so naive I was. But that it came one day when I realized I had to give in, open myself up; accept that I am only a tiny little part, a tiny little soul searching for redemption. That it came a day when I said I would do things differently, that time around. I would only be concerned that what I was hoping to bring to this world, was worthy of a chance to materialization. That I would question my motivations thoroughly, and I would make sure that whatever I was doing, I was doing it because I believed it was a way to my piece of mind. I would care less about what I didn’t know; maybe I was not supposed to; but I would care much more about what I knew it was right.

We stand alone in this life; or better said, we should be able to stand alone. I would teach my children never to fear to reach out to their true selves, and to have the humility, early in life, to accept their will might not always be listened to. I would teach them to search to be in piece with themselves. I would teach them to have the courage to walk away from the sorrow, and search for the laughter. I would teach them that what they have is what they have today. And I would wish for them to stand up strong, open minds and hearts.

This time around, I will look for the joy.


About Madalina Serban

I love children. I love the sea. I love dancing. I love writing. And I love a man who makes me laugh.


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