SANDRA

They tell me they appear in threes; I hurt one, kill another, so where is the other? That’s the brand of nonsense he and I talk about. We are a faultless pair; I was the hit and he was the run of that equation. But I don’t care. He might as well go. I forgot him almost as quickly as I open my legs for him. Speaking of opening, my father would say “when one door closes another one opens.” But what if the room only has one door? That’s the question I may never get to ask him, my father. I guess from the beginning we knew ours was a doomed fate. We wouldn’t last. He somehow couldn’t see I wasn’t going to pull up my socks or tie my laces; I wore pants and lace-less shoes for goodness sake.  Well, when you hurl a coin up, by gravity expect it to fall, stretch elastic by any measure it stretches back into place. We started at one point, it’s only right to end by another. Having moved on a great ribbon of time, the day advances. I find my wandering psyche playing out different scenarios every which way, about one thing, one person, one man. I guess it explains the invaluable power he has over me. Here I am assessing what to do, what to say. Here I am ironing out things about me that tend to muddle things up. It has to be perfect, no room for mistakes lest another shot at it never materializes. All those books, songs, and movies that speak of only having one chance and grabbing it now make that much sense. Like scented pillows I can find comfort and relate to that message a hundred times more. I am in a good space to dive in and make it all better or screw it up forever. This is the stuff of legends and heroes. Maybe it is that same poet in me that he disagrees with, but I keep picturing not getting it right while the commentary inside my head is injudiciously debilitating the confidence right from my fingers. I am losing it somehow, reverberating into a seventeen year old who fell in love with what tore us apart. The solace is that while I fall back into that pattern, all the bad things about him are perfectly being replaced by the good things in my mental gallery. After years of the same paintings, there are suddenly new ones in the building and these are masterpieces. I don’t know if I am making any sense but here is the thing; my knees buckle and fall to the floor. My hands come together and form some kind of pyramid that I gently place on my chin. Next it is my eyes that close and I begin to pray..

“Lord I know I have been away so long from you but I am here now happy and sweet because of you, please watch over him and grant me wisdom to make the right choices especially when it comes to him. He is my sense of direction and without him my life has been barely liveable. I ask this with all my heart. Amen”

My eyes open and I know everything will be fine. I forgive you. I fear I may have held on to the hate too long. I lost my voice and confidence all this time. Our fallout sapped the life out of me. I stopped eating, and looking in the mirror there was nothing, only invisibility staring right back at me. Born and raised in a family that is culturally varied, now I innately gravitate to the rhythms of the world. I vow to never loathe you again; instead keep you in my heart. Quite frankly it was depleting the life out of me, the talent out of my art. I realise I can put all that energy to good use, to its intended purpose. I realise the all important fact that I owe you so dearly in ways that my children must never be allowed to forget. So I have stashed the pain too. I know it might be late but I have to do this. It has been a long wait. Can you imagine I have been angry at you for all these years? I was mad at you for eight years. I don’t even believe that, let alone process it. How? As a little girl I never once imagined this, all that time you were everything to me, until that day and it all changed. I couldn’t love you anymore, no matter how I much I tried I simply couldn’t do it. But now seeing how your wife spoke to me, and I forgave her, I guess I can as well forgive you. That pesky voice in my head telling me I must not return can certainly hang because I am not listening to that fool anymore. I am shutting her out like I am wearing the beats by dre headphones and listening to kid rock. Today, all the belligerent thoughts and ideas that crept into my life I proudly burn. From now on all the efforts point towards eternal happiness, fostered upon the ideals that will ensure that a smile is always on your face. No more worry. I mean it, no more. If scripture has taught me anything is that hindsight only avails salty tears. I’m sorry, I miss you. And I love you Papa.

 

 

#MH #CovertTown

 

(My Intellect’s Loud And Noisy-MILAN)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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