What should I be doing in this moment?

If I spend this time writing, will I miss out on something else? If I deviate from my routine, even for just a few minutes, will something completely unexpected occur? If so, will it be magical, or dreadful? If we are prompted to spend our time elsewhere, does that mean we are changing our course of destiny, or that fate has had other plans for us all along? Should we be led throughout our schedules by logic or feeling? Do these schedules hold us back or keep us going? Is it universal, or individual?

What should I be doing in this moment?

A question that eludes me. I feel that I will be chasing the answer for the rest of the time I have been given.

What should you be doing in this moment?

When I heard those 3 soft notes, all I could think was Him. A warm melody enveloping me in the haze of that night. The heavy stench of stale cigarettes. His eye catching mine from across the room. The two outliers, noticing each other outlying. Looking at another and seeing your own reflection. Calling my number as soon as I turned away. Laughter. His face upclose, now with a layer of stubble outlining the curve of his jaw, caressing my own. Playing the same calling game every time I left. Still laughing. Every word, crisp and clear, spoken over the phone during the year apart. Playful paint debates over text, with a compromise up on every wall. The constant ring from the phone after posting my ring online. The pain of suddenly being faced with a voicemail after trying to return a call made moments ago.

I quietly silenced my phone and prepared to give my eulogy.

I should not be alive right now.

I could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I could have reacted to something a second too late.

I could have had a mother without beliefs.

I could have gone, in many different ways.

Starvation.

A terrible flu.

Depression.

Just to name the most prevalent over these years.

I would not be here,

blinking, breathing,

in perfect health,

if it were not for God.

People scoff,

roll their eyes,

and I get it.

It is difficult to believe in hope,

when everything around you is anything but hopeful.

It is difficult to have what they call

Blind Faith

in one you cannot see,

in a world dominated by visuals.

But after all the people who have lied,

and all the people who have left,

I will trust in the one who has not.

Who has brought me through it all

with an arm around my shoulder,

and with battle scars, yes,

but a stronger heart because of them.

I have my days,

many of them,

where I feel I will burst into tears

at any given moment.

Not always for an obvious reason.

Where friends have failed,

and family can be spotty,

I have gone to Him,

and received a smile.

Not always for an obvious reason.