Pages

"Welcome to the world little one." the Goddess says to the child.

She breathes life into them, and the child responds with cries.

"Here is your first page, your first day" the Goddess says.

The child does nothing with it.

The second day, the Goddess gives the child a new page, the old one turned to dust.

Still, the child does nothing with it.

Many days later, and many pages later, the child begins doodling.

The Goddess comes as she does every day, takes the page, it turns to ash, and hands the child a new page.

Months go by, and then years, the doodles become drawings, more detailed, and complicated.  The child even starts to write, and every day, the Goddess comes, takes the page, and provides a new one.

One day, the Goddess comes, hands the child a new page, and the child asks, "were is the one from yesterday?"

The Goddess responds, "it's gone, turned to ash, part of history now."

"But I wasn't done with it" the child says.

"I know, but the day has ended, and you can't go back, or make it last longer.  Time waits for no one.  Each day is a new page." The Goddess explained.

Upset, but understanding, the child took the new page, and picked up from there.

Years go by, and as a new day comes, the Goddess hears praying.

"Please, I need to fix it, I have to undo it somehow, please let me fix it."  The child, now a teen pleads.

"What's the matter?" The Goddess asks.

The child explains, desperate to change what happened, undo the damage.

"It's not possible to go back, the day is gone, the page is spent.  You can only move forward, and learn from the spent pages."

Upset, but understanding, the child accepted.

Months passed, and as the Goddess collected the pages, she became saddened by them.  They had become dull, and empty.  Something was missing, some of them were blank, as if untouched.

The pages became torn, and stained.  The Goddess could feel the pain in them, as she collected them.

Years passed, and the pages began to shift.  They were getting better, but weren't as bright as they used to be.

Again, the Goddess hears praying, but this time it's different, calmer.

"Can you help me understand why I'm here, what I'm supposed to be doing?" the child, now a young adult asks.

"I can't tell you that, it's for you to decide." the Goddess says.

"I just feel like everything is a waste, like these pages are just wasted on me."

"They're only wasted, if you choose to waste them.  They are made only for you, they are your pages."

"Couldn't someone else have them?  Someone who could make better use of then"

"No, they can't.  Pages for one, can not be given to another.  No one else can write your story."

"What if I don't want my story?"

"That's up to you, but do you truly believe things would be better that way?  You have only an opportunity, would you really prefer to not have it?"

"I don't know,... it just doesn't feel worth it."

Time moved on, and the Goddess continued to collect, and give new pages, but the pages were changing.

"Why do these pages seem different than the ones I used to get?" The child asked.

"Because you have gotten older, and you're at a different place in life." The Goddess explained.

"How much are they going to change?"

"They will change, depending on how you use them."

"How many do I have left?"

"That also depends on how you use them, but there's a limit for everyone."

"What about the ones I didn't use, or missed?"

"Those are gone, it's too late to make use of them"

The child, now an adult ponders.  So many days wasted, so many mistakes.

The Goddess continues, collecting pages.  Decades go by, they get darker, and brighter, grey, and colorful.  They begin to shrink, and become delicate, fine....

The child, now much older, asks, "What happens to the pages?  What becomes of them after you take them?"

The Goddess responds.

"I collect the pages of your life, and they become part of me.  Your story becomes forever a part of history, and I cherish each and every part."

"...but there were some awful parts,... I made mistakes,... you shouldn't hold onto those...."

"No, I hold onto everything, the good, and bad, and I do not judge.  You lived your life, no one else's, and your story is beautiful, flaws and all, because it is your story."

The child sighs, and lets go of one last page.

The Goddess smiles warmly, and thanks this soul for a life lived.