they say that loving someone is predetermined, predestined.
people speak of the instantaneous bond between mother and child, and, yes, she had become more than familiar with the biological and socio-psychological reasons for that. but it wasn’t that. or maybe it was that, but it was certainly something more.
whether you call it fate, or chance, or circumstance, loving someone persists beyond what our minds can comprehend. and she was convinced of that when she first held him. like she had wandered in her thirty-some years here, aimlessly searching for someone she faintly recognized, and yet could not name.
so, years later, when she gazed hazily into the eyes of her child she could no longer recognize, the waning yet persistent strength by which she held his hand, and the warmth she felt, could only be explained by something that had happened in a world before our own. it was no worry that her earthly mind couldn’t recall his name, or who they were to one another. in those the fleeting moments before she returned to the place that she, he, and you and i once came from, she hoped that she could relay through her gaze to this stranger she loves that she'll be able to find him again.
inspired by a beautiful excerpt by ritika jyala’s ‘The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire’, and the concept of barzakh
