Those We left Behind

As the year winds down and I sit reflecting on the journey that brought me here, one thought lingers in my mind: the people we leave behind. It’s a poignant and emotional concept, isn’t it? Relationships that once seemed inseparable can diverge until they feel like parallel lines, forever apart but hauntingly close.

Why does life pull us away from some people? Is it fate, choice, or the chaos of life itself?

Looking back, I think about my childhood friends—those who helped me in small, unassuming ways that I never fully appreciated at the time. Their kindness, however fleeting, became part of my journey. In chaos theory, there’s the butterfly effect, the idea that even a small action can lead to massive changes elsewhere. A single moment of kindness, a word of encouragement, a hand extended in friendship—all these subtle actions can ripple through time and shape destinies.

Coming back home, I see some of these same people living simple, honest lives. They aren’t chasing lofty ambitions or striving for reinvention. They’re just being. And that simplicity raises difficult questions:

• Are they stagnant, content, or complacent?
• Can we even compare these states, or are they entirely different ways of existing?
• What does it mean to live a “good life”?

As someone who left home to grow and evolve, does that make me better or just different? It’s tempting to judge the past through the lens of where we stand now, but I’m learning that growth isn’t the only yardstick for meaning.

There’s a proverb that says, “The tree does not stand tall to shame the grass.” Everyone has their role in the grand story of life. Those who seem “left behind” aren’t necessarily stagnant; they’re contributing to the balance of the universe in ways we may not understand.

But then, why does it still break my heart? Is it because I hold myself to a standard of unrelenting progress and assume everyone must do the same? Or is it because I’ve come to associate happiness with effort, struggle, and triumph, while others seem to find joy in simpler, quieter paths?

An uncle of mine recently told me he was proud of me. It was a rare, candid moment of acknowledgment from someone who had watched my journey from afar. “You’ve taken important steps,” he said, though I couldn’t pinpoint what he meant. I’ve simply been living life the best way I know how—seeking growth, challenging myself, and trying to become a better version of myself.

What struck me most was his reminder of grace. Growing up in Benin, navigating stubbornness and a restless spirit, I could have easily stayed on a very different path. Yet, somewhere along the way, life shifted. Was it luck? Hard work? Grace?

Grace, I think, is the answer. It’s what turns the unpredictable chaos of life into something meaningful. Grace allows us to acknowledge that even our greatest efforts are not entirely our own doing. And grace compels us to offer patience and understanding to those whose journeys look different from ours.

I am reminded of this proverbs:

“The river flows not because it has somewhere to go, but because it has the strength to keep moving.”

I’m starting to see that not everyone needs to be a dreamer, a thinker, or a visionary. And that’s okay. There’s beauty in all stories—the long and winding ones, the short and simple ones. Perhaps the real challenge is learning to honor everyone’s path without judgment.

So, what do we owe the people we’ve “left behind”? I think the answer is support, not pity. Encouragement, not comparison. We must be there for them, providing resources and opportunities when they seek them, while respecting their choices and timing. After all, their stories are intertwined with ours. Their lives are the foundation upon which we build, and their simplicity may even hold the wisdom we overlook in our striving.

The Question of Happiness**

Does happiness require struggle, or can it simply be? This is a question I’ve wrestled with for years. Watching those who seem content with less, I wonder:

• Are they truly happy, or have they settled?
• Does striving for more always lead to greater fulfillment, or does it sometimes rob us of the joy in what we already have?

I’ve come to a humbling realization: I am happy. That’s not something I say often, but as I reflect on the grace we’ve experienced, the growth we’ve achieved, and the life we are building, I feel a quiet, profound happiness. And if that’s true for me, isn’t it possible that others—those I thought I left behind—are happy in their own way too?

So what’s next for me, I’m choosing to embrace life’s divergence. To honor the chaos, the butterfly effects, and the grace that shape our paths. To celebrate the people we’ve left behind—not as reminders of where we’ve come from, but as integral threads in the tapestry of our lives.

May we learn to be patient—with ourselves, with others, and with the unfolding story of life. And may we trust that, no matter how different our journeys look, we are all part of something greater than ourselves.