The story of 'reincarnation' that I read involved wandering ghosts inhabiting the bodies of the dead to live again. After some thought, I realized my circumstances were different. I didn't take over a dead person to live; I was born. For a long time, I agonized over this issue. Eventually, I came to accept it, thinking that having the chance to live again, and in a healthy body at that, was wonderful.
Mom was a very gentle person. It feels wrong to occupy her son's body, and I feel tremendously guilty. I want to be extra kind to her as compensation, so I only ever smile at her. Life was leisurely until one day, I woke up and saw a very familiar face that almost made me scream.
