Dear N,

It’s been a while since we’ve spoken. Years, now, probably.

I saw your Instagram story the other day. You don’t post often, and I’m not on the app often¹ but I happened to catch it. It was of you dancing. I mean, ofcourse it was of you dancing.

Do you remember how things were in high school? We were basically the same person, just a year apart. The same accomplishments and awards, the same kinds of friends, the same affect on teachers, too. Although I think the ones that didn’t like me still liked you.

I saw so much of myself in you. We were lockstep. Literally.

The same love for movement coursing through us at all times. Dancing as much together as apart. Because that’s all we did. Dance.

I write a lot about how it’s been since I injured my feet, and since I stopped dancing. I write a lot about chronic pain, and how it’s felt to lose something that was so much a part of me.

And here you are. A reminder of who I was. A reminder of someone I haven’t been in a long time.

I see it so clearly, N. I see all the universes in which my feet didn’t get hurt. When I watch you dance, I see these other parallel timelines where I am still dancing, too. I see these other worlds where I’m stronger, happier, more.. myself.

I see all the infinite ways life could have gone differently, each decision branching out infinitely, forming a tree.

All of whose leaves still dance to the wind.

In every other universe, it would be my Instagram stories parallel to yours.

1. A lie I often tell myself. ↩︎