Me and My Perfect Life

Originally written in India, 2016.

I was floating through the backwaters of Kerala at sunset on a tiny boat, pushed along by a fisherman with a long pole. His name was Sabu. He smiled often and seemed genuinely at peace.

I asked about his family. He told me he had a wife and a daughter, and that he used to have a son. His son died of bone cancer at twelve. Sabu had tried to save him, but the chemotherapy cost too much, and the cancer spread. Now his wife had breast cancer, and he was selling everything he owned, again, to pay for her treatment.

He pulled out his phone and showed me his son's picture, the background on his screen. His eyes filled, but he didn't cry. He just kept guiding the boat, looking out at the sunset.

Something about him got me. The peace in his face, the love in his eyes, the strength to keep going. And I thought: I don't know what it's like. I had cancer as a child too, but I had doctors, treatment, and a family who could give me everything I needed. Sabu's son did not.

It's easy to create the life of your dreams when you aren't busy trying to survive. Me and my perfect life: my laptop, my camera, my health, my access to everything. I'm the one who's supposed to know about happiness and wellbeing, and Sabu taught me more in an hour than most books ever have.

It isn't fair that a boy dies because his father can't afford care that exists. That isn't politics. It's a simple fact, and you'd see it too if you looked into Sabu's eyes.

I think of him often. He's part of why I believe so deeply that human potential is everywhere, and that it should never depend on where someone happens to be born. And he reminds me to honor the strength of everyone who has been through more than I will ever know.

Danielle Posa