A Stained-Glass Masterpiece

 It was a nice pleasant evening. I could hear the birds chirping and their shadows dancing around in the glorious sunset. The oranges bounced off the glass windows, and the breezes carried hints of everything they touched. I could hear the hustle hush down and the rustle of the leaves begin. I could feel the warmth of the last murmurs of the sun in the evening sky. The view was beyond picturesque to my eyes. How so many things, being so different, still blend together seamlessly, to make one masterpiece; so flawlessly put together that they cease to exist on their own, was something I couldn’t fathom. 

Someone walked by. It was someone I used to be friends with. Not anymore.


It’s been too long, but the “not anymore” still stung. I could feel the memories flooding in, all over again. It was at this moment when I wondered, 


“Can people actually leave your life, once they come in?”


Circumstances made us feel separated, but does separation even exist? Look at the sky, it carries traces of the clouds swept away by the wind. It carries the tinges of the sun’s magnificence and the moon’s grace. It carries the beauty of the rainbow. It carries a million other things, even when we can’t find them there. I once thought that the sun leaves the sky at the onset of dawn, but really, isn’t it the sun delicately smiling at us through the moon? 


It was at this moment I thought, I’m not just me. I’m the smile of a stranger, the tear of another. I’m one’s memory and another’s muse. I’m the past of one, the present of another, and the future of someone else. I’m nothing, and I’m a million things at once. It was at this moment that I realized, all of the people I met, are the ones who made me. 


There are a million things I picked up from the people who crossed my path. I still make milkshakes the way one of my friends taught me. I still use the words that someone had the habit of using. I still read the books which were someone’s favorites. I still subconsciously take the same route I used to, when someone was around. I still believe a few things that someone taught me. I still do a few things the way someone used to. To actually realize that I’ve been carrying all these things with me, which were actually little bits of someone else, feels incredibly bewildering.


With memories trapped in our heads, our hearts, in little corners of our bodies, we carry bits of people we’ve met, all our life. We think we lost all these people to time, but if we still have bits of them in us, like words, like memories and habits, like beliefs and ways of life, doesn’t it make time stretch into the forever we wish we had with them? Doesn’t it mean we do get to live ‘Forever’ with that someone, in a way much more real than their physical presence? 


I’m happy that I get to carry bits of the people I cherished, with me, always. I’m happy that I can find bits of the people I lost, in stories, in invisible words hidden between inked lines, in songs, in movies, in the sky, and in a million other things around me. 


All our lives are, but living replicas of the stained glass art on cathedral windows.

Different pieces of glass, put together to make one whole. 

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