The Choice Was Always Mine

Let me describe a world to you—a kind of waystation where I resided before arriving here.

There I was, contemplating the exact moment my journey toward a different life would begin. I cannot say what existed before that place. I only know that I had a daunting and vital task ahead of me: to construct my own path into the world as we know it.

I was already old in that transitional realm. Old age there conferred certain privileges, but also heavy responsibilities. Among them was the chance to choose my parents.

Parents grew on the trees of that land, appearing as small, transparent fruits that captivated anyone in the process of building their way forward. Each fruit held a potential life—an entire story waiting to be uncovered.

I entered a grove of these trees and found one with a strange yet welcoming shape. It seemed to invite me to climb. Its trunk was thick and sturdy, though the path upward grew narrower. Its branches were slender, and its fruits remarkably clear.

“This is the one,” I said.

I climbed up and rested on one of its branches. Reaching out, I picked a small, brilliant fruit and looked inside.

There was the woman who would become my mother: young, beautiful, and full of laughter. She was a pediatrician—successful, responsible, and firm in her resolve not to have children for the time being. Yet, that small fruit contained a monumental story.

I slipped it into my pocket and climbed down.

I kept walking until I found another tree. This one did not invite climbing. It was tall and straight, and to reach its fruits, one had to use a long pole to knock them down. Its fruits were neither transparent nor bright; they were encased in a thick shell.

I grabbed a long pole and struck the nearest fruit. It seemed ready to fall.

Wanting to handle it with care, I sat on a bed of leaves and began peeling away the hard husk. That was when I discovered it.

It glowed even brighter than the fruit from the first tree.

I peered inside and saw the man who would be my father: strong and hardworking, the owner of a small bakery. He loved making bread. He was loud, bossy, and somehow utterly endearing.

As I gazed upon both fruits, I fell in love with them both.

I cleaned them off and set them down to rest. Later, I would take them to the sacred space where paths were built. I didn’t want to waste any time.

That space was vast and luminous. Although many paths had already been constructed, no one could see those belonging to others. The blueprint remained open for each soul. Everything there was magical.

I placed both fruits on the ground. Using my hands, I dug a deep hole and laid them together. I didn’t know what would happen between them; figuring that out was not part of my assignment. My only mission was to choose them and intertwine their paths.

Afterward, I went to sleep.

It was my final task in that realm. There were no farewells or grand displays of emotion there. Everything was simply part of a process.

While I slept, I was granted a view of what was unfolding in the earth where I had buried the fruits. I was permitted to observe only a single moment, and I chose to witness the exact second those two vastly different people met.

My mother was driving home after an exhausting shift at the hospital. It was late. Her car broke down in an area that filled her with dread. She stayed inside, trying to use her phone, but there was no signal. Outside, people were loitering who seemed intent on causing her harm.

Then, my father appeared.

He knew that neighborhood well. He didn't own a car and lived nearby. Seeing her plight, he stepped in to help, shielding her from danger and bringing her to his bakery, where she was finally able to call her family.

My mother was moved by his humanity, his generosity, and the way he protected her. My father, in turn, was struck by her grace and intelligence. He thought to himself that she was someone he wanted to protect forever.

My dream possessed a quiet awareness. Seeing them, I smiled.

And in my memory, I wrote down a mission I still had left to fulfill.

Then I drifted back to sleep, until I woke, some time later, in the world we know today.

That was when I understood: if the decision to come into this world was always mine, then I was also the one who chose them before I ever arrived.