“Mom…
I really wish I had taken
that soda from you.”
My son snuggled
up to me before bed.
“What soda?”
“At the concert. Remember?
You bought us two sodas…
for all of us to share…
But no one wanted them.
So you had to drink them
all by yourself.”
He sighed regretfully.
“I’m so sorry, mom.
I really wish I had taken one
from you.”
Oh, my sweet boy.
A couple of days
had already passed
since that night…
But I could see
he had spent a lot of time
still thinking about that.
About something so small
and insignificant…
That I could barely
remember it.
But for him
it wasn’t something small at all.
And the weight of regret was
pressing him down.
Isn’t that what regret
always does?
It shows up when we
believe we could have done
something different…
When the opportunity was there…
But we fumbled it.
When we could have
changed things…
But we didn’t act on it.
We highlight those moments
with so much significance…
As if we could have
changed the direction of the train…
If only we had reached
for the lever.
And pulled on it.
But we didn’t…
So now we’re here.
Convinced that everything
could have been different.
If only…
We knew back then.
And it's one thing when
we still have the chance
to make amends.
To say out loud
our deepest regrets.
But sometimes the people
we wish to speak to the most
are no longer here with us
anymore.
And yet…
I imagine that
they would probably
look at us the same way
I looked at my son.
With so much
adoration and love.
Not even remembering
those things we've been
holding on to for
so long.
Perhaps even smiling
at the thought of it all…
Before wrapping their
arms around us…
And pulling us into
the warmest hug.
With love,
Elina Janevica
Artwork / French School, “Bouquet of Flowers on a Marble Entablature” (fragment),
late 19th century / personal collection
