Olivia Strauss Is Running Out of Time

by Angela Brown

College is unique in that way. Time is compressed. Friendships are fast-tracked. One minute, you’re strangers; the next, you eat greasy takeout together every night

That cozy restaurant or bar I’d once frequented would be gone, replaced by some newer establishment I didn’t recognize. I’d pause and look at my reflection in a window and realize I wasn’t the same, either. The city had moved on without me. Sometimes it felt like I’d moved on without me, too, if that makes any sense.

“Ahh, the Savasana.” She winked playfully. “That’s our little yogic secret.”

“So, any other big, juicy yogic secrets?” Sunshine’s face filled with warmth, like a sunrise. “You’re not the first person to cry on one of those mats.” Her bare feet made a faint squeaking sound as she moved across the wood floors. “And, based on my experiences, I suspect you won’t be the last.”

That was the thing I’d only recently come to understand: that we aren’t born with one life, but with two. The life we live before we understand loss, and the one we finally live once we realize that, despite our many efforts, our life will ultimately end.

in our kitchen, surrounded by sympathy cards and fruit baskets and potted plants, as though the cure for grief was a hit of vitamin C and some greenery.

Sometimes, you just have to sit quietly with your grief and give it room to breathe. You have to acknowledge that it is a part of you, and that it probably always will be.