Over another glass of water, I feel my future is another week away. Admittedly, a lifetime of things had happened since last Saturday. You went through a countdown into that weekend in hope to start another one with plans on the board, only to find that you dug deep into yourself to respond to a more important calling from the family.
That previous week flashed past you. By and far you rekindled with souls that drifted away because you and they were swept away in the midst of too much and too many in life. By and far again, you discovered how much had happened since, and how darn lucky one could be. Celebrations took place, photographs taken, you reveled and remarked the days of new homes and new lives coming into our lives.
Then that weekend beckoned a new chapter. As quick as we were putting away the wrapper, the camera, the extra food from the just-finished celebrations, a phone call made a stark contrast to what our next course of actions would be. In a short time, you were thrown into autopilot. You kept an eye on the needy. You rallied with hope and prepared for the worst. You contemplated about the reality of life and death, about a time for everything, and about goodbyes.
Afterwards, you thought about taking a brief moment to take a peep into your parallel line of responsibilities, emails, phone calls, and deadlines. You tried to keep some sort of normality in the small things such as an appointment, an examination performance, your daily twice-a-day practice, a run - just so to not lose perspective of things.
You sort of live in a balance of keeping focus on what needs to be done at the moment, and your impending nagging needs in the not-too-far-off future.
A piece of wisdom I received from our travels, especially when you were in a constant move-unpack-pack-move adventure, you tend to measure what needed to be done immediately as well as any macro-looming to-do's. Beyond anything, you don't sweat over the small stuff. The image above was the morning after at the Red Squirrel, Glencoe (near Loch Leven). An amazing storm happened that night. Tents far bigger and sturdier than ours got blown away. Even seasoned local boy scouts of campers shared with us the next morning, about the unusual level of wind activity that night. I went to bed lulled by the hypnotising rhythms of our camp flapping and shaking side-to-side. Thought, that's what camping was supposed to be, right? We got our tent pitched to the ground, just zipped up the sleeping bag and smiled!
That night, my point into the future was very simple. To get a good night worth of sleep. I woke up to a future that was now, a beautiful misty morning. Exactly how I wanted Scotland to be, and that was exactly what I got.
We continued our drive that day. It rained the best part of the whole day, but did nothing to dampen anything. It was a beautiful now that the future brought. Although at one point before arriving on that day, I did feel that the future would be too far away - what not with the sun belting down at us, our sweat-soaked backs, changing into our swimmers and a warm walk to the local inn for an ale pie.
I sit here, telling myself to not "wait" but in all sense, I am waiting. From the last 24 hours, we hung onto the sweet strings of hope that our dear grandma will get better, only to braise for the sudden readings of statistics that were beyond the explanations of doctors. Nobody knows if she is giving up the fight under ICU conditions. Yet I already can hear whispers of how she's lived a good long life of 90 years. She's seen wars and outlived to better days, she's had her fair share of tears and laughter. She's given the blessing of victory to Indira (a private, personal sharing between her and me).
A point into the future hinted at some drama. Some on those who may console themselves quietly. Some will soldier on in a dignified manner. I stand amongst suggestions that would it kinder to end on a good note, rather than let someone recover into pain. Honestly, I do not possess the wisdom to such question.
Anyone's future can be as far or as close as a turn of an event. How can we all know for sure?
