Closing chapters is frequent. Whether they are significant episodes, those that change the course of vital rivers, or short ones that may later be merged with each other.
Closing them hurts. Even if they have happy endings, because they represent a conclusion, a crossroad, a decision that will lead us to a different path. We can look back, towards what could have been, but with the passage of time the landscape becomes blurred and details are lost. That is why it is better to keep looking ahead, towards what is to come, to marvel at the landscape and to be cautious not to fall.
There are chapters that, although not very long, seem immense at the beginning. They obscure the entire view and it seems that there is nothing else in life but those pages, those paragraphs falling on top of you like waterfalls. They eclipse everything else. And then they suddenly end, just like that, without even a note or an epilogue. The heart, swollen by the cluster of expectations, feels like it’s going to explode. It is hard to move your fingers to turn the page, hard to believe that what would last has become ephemeral. The desire to go back, to rewrite it from the beginning, the torture of «would have» and «maybe» invades you. It is an impossible task and, although it may not seem so at the time, it would not add any value.
Time passes and its embrace turns the page. The words of the previous chapter still haunt the mind like ghosts. Yet one day, without warning, we find ourselves admiring the beginning of the new chapter, the next page, the future and its endless possibilities. Chapters make us what we are, but they are only the columns that support our essence. We are more than the past episodes, because the lessons and memories add up to more than the tears shed, the smiles drawn and the paths that could never be.
(Here’s a picture of the place I wrote this thought)
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