She and I, we were walking by the riverside last night with our hands held tight. She turned around to ask me, if I thought our lives could be this simple for the rest of our lives – just being able to have these long walks with each other.
I paused to look at her for a while before continuing: there is nothing simple about this simplicity. In order to be here just taking a seemingly simple long walk, it means so many things have to be in coherence all at once. We’re both alive and in good health, we are in a country where peace is taken for granted and there are no drones flying overhead us, not fearing for our lives. We are two women who are able to take this walk at late night without worrying for our safety. We are not experiencing extreme weather. We have both consciously decided to make this space, in a society where it is entirely justifiable if a long walk is considered an unaffordable luxury for two working adults. Against all odds and cynicism, we are two individuals who have found each other in our mid-thirties, and we have managed to preserve some sense of aliveness and innocence to walk alongside each other. Fully present, aware of the love surrounding us.
There is nothing simple about being simple. And I am grateful to be able to know this, that the simplest of moments can be utterly deceptive, that sometimes it takes a life of extremity to appreciate the rarity of the ordinary.
When I was younger, I wanted a life of adventures. Now I have learned, with the right person every day is an adventure, every seemingly simple moment seems to contain the infinite blessings of the universe.
I can only hope and pray, that it could be this simple, for the rest of our lives.