The Last Flight

by Julie Clark

The death of any dream deserves to be mourned, all its intricate facets touched one last time.

All choices had consequences. It was what you did with those consequences that mattered.

Everything you ever wanted is on the other side of fear.

But if only is a useless question, a spotlight shining on an empty stage, illuminating what never was, and never will be.

“You know, life is long. Lots of things can go wrong and still end up all right.”

That was the funny thing about regret. It lived inside of you, shrinking down until you could almost believe it had vanished, only to have it spring up, fully formed, called forward by people who meant you no harm.

That was the problem with wishes. They always led to others. Bigger ones. Trailing back in time, knot after knot needing to be untangled, never noticing how they wrapped around you until they pulled you down.

Are we who we say we are, or do we become the person others see? Do they define us by what we choose to show them, or what they see despite our best attempts to conceal it?

That sometimes, the death of a dream can finally set you free.

Lost at sea, with no hope of navigating back to familiar land.

“It takes a long time to learn how to see the world as a place where people aren’t doing things to you.

“No matter where you go, no matter what happens, know I will be out here, loving you.”

If we don’t tell our own stories, we’ll never take control of the narrative.