I lay in bed last night thinking through line from a film I'd seen earlier that day. A question.

"If you could see your whole life would you change anything?"

Time.

All my thoughts and feelings about this are dictated by losing Tia at birth in 2010.

In a way, our memory serve as a time machine. It allow me to go back. It doesn't really matter if the memory is a perfect replica of what actually happened because we all experience events in our own way, so if the memory of that event is (inevitably) different, its…normal.

I often go back to the night Tia was born.

If we knew we would lose Tia, would we, Julie and I, do it all the same again?

What if time wasn't linear? What if we could move between time, back and forth?

Surely with that knowledge we would make changes. To better ourselves, possibly our situation, hopefully other people's situation.

But then, if we could make decisions, or more specifically changes with information about a potential outcome, then that would (surely?) mean there's no such thing as fate (which I know many people don't believe in anyway).

More importantly though, and fate aside, it would mean there's no consequence. Time allows for actions to have consequence.

The action of becoming pregnant leads to the consequence of (eventually) birth, and life. But being able to change the course of time means no consequence, or specifically, the consequence from the action no longer exists.

And yet there is some consequence, so…what if the action of changing time was always the consequence, paradoxical as that sounds, but is just the same as fate. In that, I would have always lost my daughter, no matter how much I could change.

But, would I change anything if I could?

I like to fantasise that Tia is alive in some sort of alternative reality. That she's happily part of our family. The five of us.

But that's not this reality. And equally if she's alive in another reality, then stands to reason that she never existed in others. And that, never existing is worse.

I read a South Park quote (of all things):

I'm sad […] The only way I can feel this sad now is if I felt something really good before. So I have to take the bad with the good. So I guess what I'm feeling is like a beautiful sadness.

It's easy to play with the idea of changing your past or your future, but now that I've lost something so important to me, I know, that I would never change it. I do it all again.

Of course I want my daughter back. Of course I'd give anything for that, but I can't. I've got what I've got.

I wouldn't change anything in time because I wouldn't risk loosing what I have already. My beautiful sadness.

Drafts may be incomplete or entirely abandoned, so please forgive me. If you find an issue with a draft, or would like to see me write about something specifically, please try raising an issue.