I'll let the world burn to see you dance

I’ve always thought the trolley problem was just a clever philosophy question, something to debate in classrooms or laugh about over at dinner. But life, in its cruel way, sometimes tears hypothetical questions off the board and places them in your trembling hands,just when you aren't expecting it, at this point it doesn't seem to be an imaginable question or thought you just laughed about, it's a problem stirring at you eyeball to eyeball.

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Imagine the world is collapsing under the weight of a pandemic, Streets are empty except for the sound of ambulances and hurried footsteps. The air feels heavy, haunted by collective grief, People cling to hope the way a drowning man clutches at a log of wood just like it happened during the covid-19 pandemic.

Then one morning, the scientists knock on my door with hollow eyes and heavy hearts. They tell me that inside my child, my only child, the one whose first cry still echoes in my ears has the key to saving the world. His cells hold a cure, but extracting it will end his life. And just to twist the knife deeper, they remind me there will be no more children for me after this.Truth is I'd definitely laugh,not just casually but I'll laugh out loud because I'd consider it a joke.

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I'll take a look at my child,see the soft curls, the gap toothed smile, the way he runs into my arms after scraping his knee. I think about the nights he crawls into my bed because of a nightmare, about how he buries his face in my chest and whispers, "Don’t let go, Mama."

How do I tell him that I will let go, forever?
I imagine the millions of faces I’ve never met,mothers who would get to hold their babies again, grandparents who would live to see another sunrise, young lovers who might grow old together. But I also imagine the empty seat at my dinner table, the small shoes by the door gathering dust, the echo of laughter that will never fill these walls again.

There is no neat logic in this choice, It’s a savage, soul tearing riddle that no philosophy book can prepare you for, you'll have trauma head on and it won't give you a soft spot.In my heart, I know that I could not hand over my child. The world might call me selfish, history might label me a coward, but in the quietest corner of my soul, I hear his voice "Don’t let go, Mama." And I can’t.

I would hold him tighter than ever before. We would plant a garden and watch it grow through the window, We would read stories under blankets until the sun rises, I would memorize every freckle on his face, every giggle, every tear.The guilt would be a heavy cloak I’d wear for the rest of my life, I would watch the world shrink and darken beyond my door, I would mourn the loss of so many lives.

But I would choose him. Not because it’s the right choice for the world, but because he is my world. He is my everything, my final heartbeat, my last sunrise.I didn't create the world,God did and I believe He wouldn't let the world be sa at the cost of my boy.I choose to keep my arms wrapped around my child, no matter the cost,I'll rather let the world burn just to see him dance.

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