In Another Life

In another life,
I didn’t leave my country
to chase green pastures across distant lands.
I stayed home—
with family, with friends—
we built something of our own,
brick by brick, dream by dream.
And it grew.
It thrived.
We thrived.

In that life,
I didn’t miss birthdays or weddings,
didn’t scroll through photos of laughter I wasn’t part of.
I danced to the tunes of my favorite childhood artists,
stood front row at concerts
instead of watching clips online.
I was there.
And I was the happiest ever.

In another life,
I didn’t count hours
just to earn enough
to chase the next paycheck.
There was no end-of-month exhaustion,
no cycle without pause.
I traveled the world—
not alone, but hand in hand
with the people I love.

In another life,
I followed my dreams
like a river meets the ocean.
And those dreams bloomed—
not in secret, not in silence—
but in color, in song,
in the light of a beautiful future.

In that life,
I didn’t have to change my tongue
just to be understood.
I didn’t shrink myself
to fit in someone else’s mold.
I didn’t question my being,
or apologize for my difference.

In that life,
certain words didn’t exist:
exile, sacrifice, distance, longing.
They were never needed.

That life was peace.
That life was full.
That life was mine.
And in it—
I was the happiest ever after.

In that next life this story doesn’t exist.

What’s in your “In another life?”