End Of A Story. Beginning Of A Story.

Six years after quietly walking in, she quietly walked out. No doubts. No questions. No lingering regrets. Just the hope that you left their world a tiny bit better than you found it.

In the end, even the biggest events of our lives finish with a quiet whisper. And when it does, a lot of the loud bangs which precede the end start to make sense. We tend to hold on to everything just a tad longer than we should. We like to believe that there is still a tiny bit of you that can turn things around. Perhaps that is what makes us human. Hoping against hope. And in the process, lose a little bit of ourselves.

Out of the ruins, however, a new life germinates. A bright new hope. A wholly different kind of hope. One that you did not bother to think if it exists. And it hits you like a bulldozer. Again and again. Life is irritatingly stubborn. Because otherwise, it would never get a chance. It whacks you on your head long enough for you to sit up and take notice. And once you do, you realize what you were missing.

Life is not long enough to carry regrets or grudges. It is just about enough to carry someone’s love in your heart. I have made that space.

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