Sparks Like Stars

by Nadia Hashimi

center and it’s oh so dark and

“The bright light of seeking can blind a person from finding anything at all. We’re not looking. We’re finding.”

remember that we were in the American

chasing their story then. But the internet

started

eavesdropping and realized that the books they read were just an excuse to talk about their own lives. Every character, every broken heart, every twist of fate inspired a story about an unruly mother-in-law, a philandering father, or the cousin who came out to his unforgiving parents. Sometimes it sounded more like a therapy session than a book discussion. I could never join a book club. About a year ago, I started attending book talks.

You miss them, she said. That’s grief, and grief is nothing but the far brink of love. Love is the sun, grief is the shadow it casts. Love is an opera,

grief is its echo. You cannot have one without the other. But if you follow that grief, you’ll find your way back to love. You haven’t let yourself do that yet, and you need to—in your own way. So cry, scream, run, sleep, pray, or write love notes in the sand. But grieve, so you can get back to love, because love is a better place to be.

“She had regrets too,” I tell Mom.

And cursed the sun for rising