11th August, 2019

When I open the door to the cabin, I hear soft music floating from inside.

Grandpa's eyes flick open slowly, his gaze landing on me. It seems as if it takes him a while to process who his visitor is. But when he does, a small smile spreads on his thin lips. He slightly raises his hand, which was lying beside him on the bed, and gestures me in. I turn my head back to July, who tells me to go ahead.

"This should be a proper conversation between the two of you," he says.

So I enter and close the blue hospital door behind me, catching a glimpse of July's face from the small, circular window on it before he goes away. There is a chair beside the bed. I walk over to it and sit down, grandpa's eyes following me the whole time.

The man in front of me is nearly unrecognizable from the man he used to be only four days ago. For one, he has become bonier, the veins on his wrinkled hands visible, the wrinkles on his forehead deeper and more profound.

"I've been waiting for you," he says in a strained voice, hinting exhaustion but not weakness. "I was wondering . . . why my fellow lover of literature hasn't come to meet me yet."

"I'm really sorry, grandpa," I reply, folding my hands on my lap. "It's a family crisis, I've been finding it difficult to figure out where I should insert myself, without overdoing it . . ."

"You think too much, my dear." He smiles. "But perhaps, that's your charm. I do understand. It is easier to join someone in their joy, than in their calamity."

I slowly nod.

Grandpa tries to prop himself up on his elbows. I fix the bright white pillow and help him settle in a half-lying position. I try to be as gentle as I can, afraid I will break him, though I myself don't have that much physical strength. It would certainly be more than someone who is 50 years older than me. Once again, I am overcome with the fear that the older I grow, the more helpless I will become. And if I have no one beside me, I would die alone in a hospital bed identical to this one.

Grandpa reaches for the radio on the bedside table and turns a button to reduce the volume of the song. I don't recognize the song, but I do recognize the radio. It's the same small, grayish brown one that sat in the living room of Tiara's cabin. No one has entered that living room since grandpa has come here.

He lets out a sigh and says, "Oh Cedar, I cannot share this with my children. But I know for sure that they are struggling to pay for every little thing here. A guilt too heavy to carry. It makes me wish it would just end."

The sentence takes me aback. Grandpa is talking quite differently than he usually does. Is this the same man? I discover a massive contrast between the thoughts of a healthy man living with simple happiness, and that of someone who kissed the door of death and managed to turn around. Is this how Dawn was like, in those final days?

Just as the word 'Dawn' bubbles up in my mind, a small pain bursts in my temple. My vision goes hazy for a split second, and a cloud of confusion spreads within me. It's like the feeling of forgetting something important but being unable to grasp what that is. This is not the first time since I woke up today that I felt like this. Strange.

"Cedar? Did you zone out like my granddaughter?" He laugns.

I snap out and recall what he said earlier. Quickly, I hold grandpa's hand with both of mine. "Please don't say that, grandpa. I have lost someone very dear to me precisely because he shared the same sentiment. Please. The regret of not being able to do everything within your power to save someone you love is incomparable."

He looks at me for a moment, before chuckling a little. "I know, my dear, I do. That is what's keeping me going. Don't take an old man's words so seriously." He coughs a couple of times, then let out a low grunt. "Now tell me about yourself, dear. Have you managed to apologize to that person?"

That was more than a week ago, so I'm surprised grandpa still remembers it in this state of mind. I nod and reply, "I took your advice. And it worked very well. Thank you, grandpa."

"That's good to know."

"Actually . . . I have another advice to seek."

He gives me a look that says he already had a hunch. "Ask away. When you reach my age, the wisdom you earned from your experiences, and the histories you bore witness to, will be the only things making you valuable."

I suppose he is right. I take some time to arrange my thoughts, then begin. "I have been thinking about where I want to head with my life."

He nods slowly.

"Or, rather than thinking, I should say I've been . . . putting off the thought for a while. Because none of the roads laid ahead of me seems to go the way I want, you know- if I choose to see it realistically."

I fix my gaze on my lap. "The thing is, when I chose the Science stream in high school, I didn't think much of it. I did it because my mother wanted me to, and it's not like I found the subjects particularly difficult." I take a deep breath. "But the more time passed, I guess there came a point where I started to question everything more and more. I realized that it was all sucking the life out of me. Why am I spending so much time, and working so hard for something that gives me no joy? The answer was obvious to me. Because life just works that way.

"So I told myself that and continued, and perhaps things would never exceed beyond those occasional questions that were, just- born out of frustrations if everything just went normally."

I pause, the blurry, haphazard images of that November morning floating in front of my eyes momentarily before I push them away.

"But I went through some huge changes in life, with the d-death of my best friend and . . . things that came after. And when one realization led to another, I suppose it became quite difficult for me to pretend that's the life I want to live for myself. Now, when I think about it, I don't think I have the capability to make it into a good engineering university. And when I think about dedicating my whole life to this route, I feel so exhausted that I lose the energy to move further."

Grandpa nods again. This time, he asks, "So what is your ultimate decision?"

"There isn't any yet. I'm confused. But if I'm being honest, I want to stay as close to literature as I can. Especially editing, just like you, or literary critique- things like that, I'm really interested in those. But there are so many things I'm worried about."

"Money, am I right?"

I nod. "I come from a well-off family, it's not like I have to provide for them. I have seen my friend Edgar, who can't even go to university because he has to work for his family. I'm lucky in that aspect. But it's not really so much about the money as it is about my self-esteem . . ."

"I fully understand you, my dear."

My heart feels more at ease hearing that. "I'm also worried that, if I turn this into my career, if it become something that I have to do because I have no other choice, rather than something I do out of hobby, what if all the joy gets sucked out of it? What if I lose all my love for literature afterwards?"

"There is that possibility, too. I won't deny."

"Yes. Grandpa, you worked as an editor and translator both, right? How did you . . . come around to decide that this was the path you want to take?"

"Hmm . . ." He glances up at the ceiling, lips pursed up in thought. "It was so long ago, dear, I barely remember how or when I became certain of my life's direction. But what I'm sure of is that I too had doubts just like you. After all, I did come from a poor family."

"Your parents . . . what did they say?"

"My father wanted me to study Law, actually." He smiles. "But luckily, he never pushed me. When I said I am applying for AIFA's Department of Literature, he wasn't too happy, but he didn't try to convince me otherwise either."

AIFA. Apollo Institute of Fine Arts. The oldest, biggest and most famous Arts university of this country. Very few students are taken in every year, just like in Telois. But the education is of the highest quality. Many famous musicians of our country are AIFA graduates.

Grandpa continues. "He believed I should struggle in life and learn from it. And I did struggle, and I did learn. I wouldn't say my love for literature was taken away on times of struggle. But there were nights I went to bed thinking that maybe I made the wrong choice. There were nights I thought of giving up and trying something else. And it was all because of money. Truly the root of all unrest, isn't it? Yet we can't go without it in peace either."

Very ironic. But his words aren't comforting, though practical. I shift in my chair.

"Cedar, I won't tell you unrealistic things to give you false confidence," he says, as if hearing my thoughts. He adjusts the blanket on his lap. "If I lay down the truth to you, it's not an easy path at all. Having a degree doesn't always guarantee a stable career with a decent salary. In the beginning, you might have to do things you don't like, and you might have to accept low payment for those. In the very beginning, I edited, and sometimes wrote, for a magazine purely about skincare. I hated it!"

I sigh internally. I should've figured as much.

"You might get better opportunities as time passes. If you become a professional editor, you will be the luckiest if you become the permanent editor of a famous writer. But of course not many writers become famous, so the chances are low. Getting into a reputed publishing company is another way, but that's not easy either. You might have to overwork often if you want to earn more."

I already knew all of that. But hearing it all from his mouth crushes something within me. Reality is truly a cup of coffee with no sugar or milk.

"But," grandpa says.

I look up. "Yes?"

He smiles. "My times and your times are different. You, my dear, have many opportunities waiting for you. Things could be a bit easier if you have the dedication."

I scratch the back of my neck. "Are you talking about freelancing?"

"That's right!" He chuckles. "Freelancing is a blessing, my dear. Especially since you can do it online from home. You can work as an editor, proofreader, reviewer, critic, beta reader, and so much more. I try to keep up with the current world, and from what I understand, this can be great for you. Though unfortunately, it won't be easy for you to find fictional works to edit or proofread."

"It will mostly be articles."

"Yes. But it's a good headstart if you ask me! You're gaining experience after all. And you're getting money, that you can save up for times of need. That's something I hadn't done back then, which is why I had to live under a sublease in shabby apartments, surviving on $2 sandwiches and cheap beer for months on end. A period of my life I do not like to revisit for sure."

I nod thoughtfully, a vague plan beginning to take form in my head. "So ultimately, my goal will be to enter a publishing company. A good one."

"That's right."

"But for that . . . I would need a degree in Literature, won't I?"

"For the kind of positions you're aiming for, I'm afraid so. And mind you, being a literature student isn't easy. Sometimes you might have to finish a 300-page book and write detailed analyses of it within three days only. For me, the hardest course to pass was Creative Writing, because I remember how biased my professor was. She had a deep hatred for specific words and phrases, and would give an F to anyone who dared to use it."

I grin. "What a pain."

"She was, alright!" He laughs heartily. "But thinking back to it, I was happy, Cedar. I truly was. It was difficult, sure. But I never felt like I would be happier than this elsewhere."

My smile fades, and I let out a sigh. "But . . . if I really purse a degree in Literature, I won't have any other windows open. What will be my plan B?"

"Now that is something I can't help you much with, my dear. It's something you have to plan yourself, considering your other options. All I can say is that even if it seems like there are no other windows open, there almost always is."

Hmm, now that is a little comforting. I go through everything he told me so far, and the plan forming in my head takes a somewhat solid shape. Supposing I do manage to get into a good university and study Literature there, maybe I could start a freelancing job on the side. The main problem is that it's not always stable, and it takes time to become established enough to get a steady workflow. I'll probably have to spend a lot of time simply looking for jobs. Will it be better if I start as soon as possible then? But no, that will hamper my studies. But then again, I wouldn't really require a perfect GPA to get into an Arts university, maybe just a perfect grade in English. But there are general universities too, so in that case I will-

"My, my, Cedar!" grandpa calls, and I snap out of my rapid rush of thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Have you already started planning your entire life while sitting beside my sickbed?" He laughs. "Don't rush, my dear. These are things you need to take time to think through. For now, the only thing you need to decide whether this is the path you truly want to take."

I ponder over it, but then realize there is not much to ponder over. I tell him, "After talking with you, somehow, my doubts reduced tenfolds. I think . . . yes. Yes, grandpa, I think that's really what I want to do."

He raises his brows. "Well, doesn't that save you from half the trouble! It's always best to never doubt too much and just move on forward steadfast like a bull. The more you doubt, the more you will drift farther away from yourself."

The more I doubt, the more I will drift farther away from myself. I suppose I have realized that already, except in another way. He is right.

But despite everything, one last problem still remains.

My mother . . . I really have to call her.

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01-05-2022

This chapter came out quite naturally, since I share the same dilemma as Cedar. Though I have more or less decided not to pursue Literature as my main career, a part of me will always continue to wish I could.

This arc will prolly have a couple more chapters, and then we're on to the last few chapters. I think after this arc ends, I will work on the pending side stories. Probably only three four of them left. Let's see.

Thank you for reading. I'm really grateful to the few who have stuck around despite the extremely slow updates. Take care of yourselves, please. After a long, long time, I'm feeling better, and I want to erase the past five or six months from my memories. Regardless, it reminded me that things do get better at some point, even if you don't make an active effort.

— love, Poma