Some Other Time

by Angela Brown

thick, chestnut hair accented with silver strands, like tinsel on a tree—

thinking about how she’s spent years—decades, really—just happily, obliviously, following along behind him.

“And even though I know how our story ends,” Jonah continues, “if I got to go back to the first chapter, I’d still do it all again.”

So sweet

11:11.

Made me laugh

try to sleep it off, like a bad hangover? Or does she just go with it, like picking up a book you’re not sure you’ll like, but seeing it through to the end just to find out where it leads?

Sometimes I do just read or skim along to see how it goes

blend! Her mind immediately flips back to Sunday morning in Florida, Ellie and her mother at the kitchen table, talking over their steaming mugs. Things won’t be the same when you go back. Your life. The house. Everything will be different. Ellie cannot imagine a world in which her mother would ever mean for those words to be taken quite so literally.

the best chapter of her life was ending. The three of them living together in the house. Ellie always so busy, and yet always having some defined purpose. Even if it was for a million small somethings—tasks other people might have overlooked—for many years, Ellie had felt so needed. All the invisible work she filled her days with—all the invisible work every mother fills her days with—it was important. It kept the ship running. It kept everyone safe. Healthy. Happy. Forward moving. It made Ellie feel like what she was doing mattered. That her choices mattered. That her life mattered and made a difference. But then, as abruptly as a car crash, it all stopped. Ellie’s job—the one she’d chosen all those years earlier—was over.

How quickly things change How we adjust to the changes is a choice

stealing a few quiet, private minutes to watch her daughter—her most precious blessing—peacefully sleep.

Watching Maggie grow up was a privilege. Ellie knows this. Still, it hurt. Over the years, Ellie was constantly forced to watch pieces of her only child’s younger self die, like being a guest at a thousand funerals. The first time Maggie left the house without a kiss. The moment she released Ellie’s hand, desperate to walk ahead of her. The afternoon Maggie decided she no longer needed a push on the swing. The last time she played with her favorite tea set. Her first doll. The bicycle with the rainbow streamers. Not

Then again, motherhood sometimes feels like a study in guilt. If you leave your child when she’s young to pursue something for yourself, you feel the guilt of it early. If you don’t and then realize later that your purpose has grown up and moved away, you’ll feel it at the end. It’s really just a matter of whether you want to front-load or back-load the emotions.

bells tinkling like glitter for one’s ears.

Love some of these analogies

big, wide, jack-o’-lantern-tooth smile.