On moving on

"When one door of happiness closes, another opens,
but often we look so long at the closed door
that we do not see the one that has been opened for us."
    - Helen Keller

Project: Live.

   

     I cherish this picture of me and mom taken in January. These were the days when we were at our happiest. No one, not even a glimpse of chance, have foreseen that our wheels would turn 180 degrees and hit rock-bottom darn hard in just a second. All our life we were out conquering the world with heads held high, and then at one moment we two were found lying in bed with the reddest and wettest of eyes, arms held on tightly, gathering up every drop of strength that's left with each other.

     These were the days where plans were envisioned to materialize. They were clear-cut plans, or so I thought. Why didn't it occur to me that plans, like promises, are meant to be broken? 

     Ah, move on. These two words are the easiest to utter yet difficult to ponder on. Somehow there are still questions that remain unanswered. Somehow, the curiosity of knowing these answers remain interesting, puzzling. Somehow, this curiosity is what's keeping this pursuit of happiness in a halt. These answers stay elusive. They stay buried in the deepest - who knows how to dig 'em up? Time will definitely tell, they say. What is with time alone anyway that it tells? Unless someone makes the move to tell, I have the littlest of ideas.

     I do believe in one thing, that a little goes a long way.

     We have gathered up some fruits of our hard-earned labor converting our little garage into this multipurpose space where we can put up any kind of business necessary:

     Little by little, this too shall pass. If mom and dad had survived it 26 years ago, why wouldn't they now? If mom and dad survived, why wouldn't I? This is one tough smiley daredevil.

     Chances are it may take time. It may take lots of it.

     Mom and I are still on the state of trauma, each with different fears, but supporting each other. I try vanishing her fears by sneaking her out from home once in a while and face the world again as she confidently had. She tries comforting me with motherly words and pieces of advice and makes me feel loved and secured.

      Somehow this personally gives me a different notion of what moving on is all about. It's not about finding someone to cover up all the hurt and correcting the mistakes you did to another lover. It's about finding ones self, fixing ones self first, regaining self-respect, setting priorities and seeking one's true happiness, and every other thing shall fall into place. I might have lost myself for seven long years. It is high time I find this little lost lass and send her back on track. And maybe one day I might realize that the track I left might be the track I might begin with again. I have never lost faith on it yet, but I am open to any other subdivided tracks.

     Oh, and that little multipurpose garage space? Who knows, I might put up my little noshery dream of pastas someday!