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I wish I didn’t have to choose. A recurring wish she’d had these last few weeks and one she made again now, unaware that every granted wish comes with a hidden cost, every blessing shadowed with a curse.
“You know how Dad always called you a force of nature? Well, I saw you more as a force of chaos. Growing up, you did these little disruptive things that drove me crazy—like how I’d comb my hair until it was perfect, and you’d come and tousle it. Or how you bought me orange tennis shoes after I asked for plain white ones. And after Dad died, when the last thing I needed was more chaos, you still brought it. Making me cut class, ride roller coasters, go to concerts … But I get it now. You weren’t adding chaos to my life. You were adding color.” What would a world without Madeleine possibly look
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Oona would always try to create continuity and meaning in her life—she couldn’t help it—but she’d also seize these moments of happiness and relish them. Whichever way the years flowed, it was impossible to outmaneuver their passage. Even chronology doesn’t guarantee security. All good things ended, always. The trick was to enjoy them while they lasted.
There would be bad days, there always would. But she’d collect these good days, each one illuminated, and string them together until they glowed brightly in her memory like Christmas lights in a mirrored room.
And maybe youth isn’t wasted on the young; maybe the young know how to spend their youth just right.
