in the midst of uncertainty
When I traveled to France around the spring last year, I fell in love with Paris. A place where starry-eyed lovers stroll hand-in-hand along the River Seine. A City whose beauty and charm leaves you longing for breath. One night during our stay, my friend Meleny and I, decided to take an evening cruise down the River Seine. As the sun went down, we passed the famous iron lady — otherwise known as The ‘Eiffel Tower.’ Mel was recording on her camera, however, I knew a picture wouldn’t capture the beauty of this specific moment. The tower lit up from the top to the bottom with shimmer and elegance. Reminded me of a woman putting on her most sophisticated diamonds and fragrance for the evening. It started to pour, and we ran in the rain to a small, cozy restaurant a couple blocks away from the tower. Jazz was playing and we were outside underneath the patio engulfing and struck by the ‘Tour Eiffel’s' beauty underneath the rain. As I get older I try to cling on to the radiant memories that make my life remarkable. There’s something majestic about Jazz piano. The soul in Jazz alone revives my very soul, it transports me back in time. I’m not really sure where and when my passion for jazz and blues started. Maybe it was when I was thirteen years old and my dad whom, prior to that I hadn’t seen in almost a decade, gave me my first ‘Amy Winehouse’ “Back to Black” CD. He popped it into his radio and turned it all the way up. The walls were trembling in his old, 1st-floor apartment on Morrison Ave. We sang along at the top of our lungs to “Back to black.” He told me to always make sure I appreciated good music. I realized at that moment that I didn’t know much about him, however at least he enjoyed melodic tunes. I contemplate on life from time to time, and the very things that make it extraordinary. I think about love, and how we wear emotions as we would a security blanket. We’re frightened to fall and yet daunted by the idea that we could somehow end up lonesome. So, we choose to love although it’s complex, chaotic, and tortuous. There’s warmth, endearment, tenderness, and these moments leave one intoxicated with the thought that maybe, just maybe we should close our eyes and leap. We’re a masochistic species, aren’t we? I watched an episode today where a girl looked into the camera and said, “I spent so many years not being as happy as I could’ve been! Just go after what you want, and act fast because life just isn’t that long.” If only it were that easy, If people would say what they feel instead of nurture it inside the depths of their very soul. If people were to follow their heart, would the world be a better place? Will the sun spin on its axis? Would world hunger end? Poverty? Crime? At a very young age, I lived in a city that left me depleted emotionally, physically. Yet I was inebriated with its presence. I wonder if maybe I simply had too much soul to walk the streets of a city so heartless. Either way, I have to thank the city. For, I wouldn’t be the girl I am today had it not been for the inhospitable nights and distant days. My friends ask me why I love New York so much and honestly, I can’t quite explain it. The city bears the depths to my wholesome upbringing, the gloomy, and the blissful memories. A reminder of God’s constant and agape love. It’s funny how everyone of us are always longing for something. Our next vacation, a raise, relationship, a house, the list is endless. However, when was the last time we were comforted precisely where we were? There are lonely nights that I long for the house, the God-fearing man, the ideal career in the hospital. And there are days that I value without a doubt my loneliness because, despite it all, my father in heaven continues to remind me in a whisper that he is enough. There are days where I’m stuck in the middle of content and longing for more. These days I want to get on a plane and fly far away from my ordinary routine. In the midst of my uncertainty, deficiency, and fragility, I tune out my thoughts and I try to listen to the one who created me’s whispers. He’s calling my soul to be still, in the midst of the unpredictability he is silently moving. “Would you let go, and leap?” He asks. Although I take my time, come across barriers, and walk the opposite direction, he waits patiently. “I’ve been through this before.” I think right before I run towards his arms. How many times will we find ourselves in these interchangeable situations before we realize our answer has never left us. He’s solely waiting for us to recognize that we can sprint to him. Instead, we long for beautiful places, peculiar faces. We’re perplexed creatures, aren’t we?
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