Journey in life-adjusting to reality (SIF)

amother

Tue, Jan 03 2023, 1:59 pm

Booking a flight, it's important to get it right. And there's nothing like the smug feeling of ensuring you have booked yourself a great seat for the flight and feeling better than others.
So you check into your flight and make your way to your seat. You have that feeling of superiority and feel better than others because you have this better seat and you were organized about getting it.
You settle into your flight and get comfortable. The stewardess offers you a drink and you happily accept a cup of orange juice. You make the brocha and just as you're about to drink it, there's a sudden turbulence and the juice splashes onto your white top. Annoyed, you try to mop up the juice, not that it will help much.
The person sitting in the opposite seat doesn't seemed to have been bothered by the turbulence and you feel annoyed about that.
Then you try and drink again. This time whilst watching the other person. They are fine, it's you who has the turbulence.
You make a complaint to the stewardess that this isn't how it's supposed to be. You booked this seat and this isn't what you expected. They check the seat records and apologize. You're right. You are in the wrong seat.
Feeling smug and right, you make your way to the correct seat this time. Now you settle down and get comfortable again. This time it will be great. This is how it's supposed to be.
But here comes the turbulence. And it's a strong one. You get a break and watch the person in the opposite seat struggle instead. But the feeling of superiority and smugness has worn off.
And here comes that turbulence. This isn't how it's supposed to be. This wasn't the seat you thought you'd booked. But somehow it seems to be yours.
You go through life content. Find a nice guy, get married. Have the first child after a year of marriage. Have another child a couple of years later. All normal and smooth sailing. Then comes another one. And another. But wait, the turbulence kicks in. This time there's no baby at the end. Only pain and heartbreak. And then there's nothing. No pregnancy. No baby. No nothing. Again and again and again. Every month the same ending in blood.
This wasn't the life I had planned. But somehow it seems to be mine. And however much I rage and however much it hurts, I can't change my seat.
We each have our own seats on the plane of life. Each with our own turbulence. And this is mine.