Twice in a life
Our farewells were hurried and our last days a logistical frenzy. I said my goodbyes matter-of-factly, unable to grasp the extent of my words at the moment. Coming from different parts of the world, many of us were all in this city for a time—our time together, like passengers on a train journey, crossing paths on our way to our final destination.
Continents and countries away, I'd in all likelihood never see any of these people in my life again. Oceans apart, my son would probably never again meet these friends that he had once learnt and played alongside. What of this period of his young life would he eventually remember?
As I said my farewells, one mum said to me, "Twice in a life, twice in a life—we will see each other again."
I was surprised at that moment, as the expression was not new. I had heard it once before, when a lady who showed us around the city where she lived had told me, "We have a saying that we will always meet someone twice in a lifetime." It was my second time meeting her. The first time we met was when I opened the door to the night train cabin and was surprised to see her and her husband inside—I was not expecting to share a sleeping compartment with someone else. She was the one who gave me her contact and asked me to reach out when I mentioned that I had a trip planned to the area where she lived during that serendipitous encounter on the train.
Knowing and experiencing what I did, the earnest words spoken to me suddenly held new meaning. Twice in a life—it almost brings me to tears, for isn't that what we all need?—a little hope in this life—to know that goodbyes are not the end and that there will always be a time for second chances, and that maybe, maybe we can meet someone twice in a life.
I've always been pretty logical and practical, and I've subconsciously held on to many reasonable nevers, not evers, cannots and what have you. For instance, I didn't think I would ever be able to continue speaking Mandarin with my son as he continues growing older, as there'd come a point when I wouldn't be able to keep up with the level of language proficiency required for his increasing intellect. It made a lot of sense to me logically, until one day, someone simply told me, "You can do it." It was a mind-blowing moment for me—the possibility of a maybe, that maybe I can actually do it, and maybe this is actually possible.
I know very well that the answer sometimes will eventually be a maybe not. Yet though the possibility is small, there exists still that chance of a maybe, and I think that that little hope can make a world of a difference. Well, as for me, I'm going to stop entertaining my never-ending list of impossibles and start opening my mind to the limitless possibilities of a maybe.