Ripple

By Kashish Fatima

Been told that you do not know what a full cup is until you’ve held it, empty, devoid of life and content. And so when I want to smash porcelain to pieces, I remember to fill it up. Heard a stranger on the street, dreamy eyed and caffeinated, say that no deliberate effort is worth it to make people feel guilty. No forced apology means anything, so I let it die in their throat. My friend said that the worst someone can say is ‘no’, so I’m learning to be better at asking. Grandma said you only live once, but once is enough if you do it right. So I wake up every day, pray and dress up nice, to labour away my luck and love in hopes of getting life right.

Been told that my story will live on in the books that I write, but also in the words of those whose lives are intertwined with mine, their wisdom and mine a chronic condition, a generational legacy. My mother’s advice is my inheritance, my grandfather’s boldness is my watermark, my father’s heart is my timeless heritage.

The lady at the local library smiled when I gave her a christmas card, and I stress-ate the biggest whippy of my life. I shared this with a stranger at the grocery store who was having a bad day, and she smiled too. My parents cooked me my favourite meal. And so the pebble of care drops, and the ripples of love endure, forever, racing against time.

Image: Jess Bate via UnSplash