Bits and pieces

A guy holding out his left hand towards me, asking for help.  Right hand holding a wound on the torso.  Dark red Elizabethan outfit.  Short, curly brown hair.  Battle ensue in the background.

Buildings atop a bridge.  Shops, apartments.  People in clothes from another century going about their daily business.  Sun setting in the background.

Children playing in a porch.  Ladies cooking in the kitchen.  Large halls with luxurious decor - mirrors, crystals, green loriots.  Image of the guy from the battlefield on one of the mirrors, looking grim.  Guy wearing old-fashioned white cotton/linen top.

Laundry of a luxurious apartment.  Window overlooking a small centre court with one tree.  Walls of the blocks surrounding the court glisten in sunlight.  Floor made of glass, clear water underneath.

Ripples

My mum told me she had a terrible hard labour delivering me.  It was so critical that the doctor asked my dad to choose which life to save.  But somehow, a specialist doctor decided that he would go home late that day and offered to help my mum with the labour.  Because of that somehow, both of us are still alive.

Looking back, I had always wonder what would've happen if my dad did make that decision.  Which would he save?  My mum, the love of his life? Or this child he has never met?  And whichever of us had he chose, how different life would be?  How would life be for my sister being the eldest in the family?  How would life be being the only child of a single parent?

Was I intended to be here, in this world?  How much of the ripples in the waters of life have I changed?