Fantastic Pace
There is a fleeting scent this morning, something so familiar, just down the stairs that might not have been there. In my daze my body can conjure no hesitation, I was descending somewhere that I knew, a place where I was. At a light a blue counter my mother stood. There was a faint smile on her face and a plate in her hand, it was for me, it was always there waiting for me. Lurking to the other side I found a stern wooden chair, an added comfort to my pampered life. Then something incredible happened, beyond the shutter of glass plate brandishing the plastic frame and over the slamming of a drawer we spoke.
“Why are you up so early?” A shade of satire framed her words
“It feels like you ask me that everyday, yesterday, and the day before, I have known this hour way to many times.” The bitter frustration that comes from sleep deprivation was so evident in my eyes. At an hour like this even the kindest of words are greeted with scorn.
She looked at me, desensitized to an aggravated mouth, made a smile and ignored disheartening tone.
“You know, I’ve missed you. It seems you left one weekend and never came back. Your sister could use you sometimes. You kids, you do remember that you were kids at some point?”
I stopped her, or maybe she stopped, maybe nothing was happening at all. Was I ever really a kid? It seems I was regurgitated into a society that did not understand me, a society that hated me or ignored me, I was never really ready for it but no one ever really is. I’ll never have a chance to enjoy the times I should have enjoyed, but it all starts again the conversation continues.
“I know, I get it, I know, I am always here, I just don’t know what to say, I get it. I was a kid, and in every way I still am mom, I’m just not a kid you ever knew.” The sad truth is the moment you let that newborn baby out of your arms, they are already corrupted, and they will never be the same as the first time they looked into your eyes. The moment we stop fighting and screaming for each breath is the moment we have all died.
“You say these thing, but what you know is that you will never get it honey. You say these things to me so these conversations don’t happen; yet you know my response. Are we the only ones in this house? Is that plate empty in front of you?”
The plate was empty, I had no idea where I was, except I couldn’t run away from the things I knew.
“Look at the grass, see through the glare in the glass door.”
I did, I could see my foot steps in the gentle dance of the grass, like every other day the wind was there, it too was doomed to have forgotten so much, but on those days when my thrown was a swing set, it was there too. So was my brother, and my sister, in a time before we understood we should be embarrassed of each other, or a time where either of us could be overbearing, it was the only time family was conveniently defined.
I was hypnotized by everything I had ever let go, the dirt on my feet and erasable grass stains, it was all trivial but far to complex for anyone to ever grasp. My head would not turn but I could feel my mother’s eyes watch me in loving candor.
“There was a time when I used to sit you guys on a chair, take you away from everything you loved, and for 15 minutes just comprehend the consequences of your actions. In that chair it felt like time stopped didn’t it? What was ever really happening in the world when you were out of it? But time never stopped and things kept going, and the only thing that could ever validate that was the formation of green lines that simply illuminated the presence of time. But I can’t do that anymore, or maybe I just wished that one day you could burn the chair. So why now do you seat yourself, there is a clock somewhere, but you’re the only one watching.”
I swallowed the nothingness of my plate and then slid it aside, enough weight hung off the ledge for it to drop, danger was spread across the floor, it seemed this danger made no sound, wherever it went I would never know. Here are the words my head thought might be an appropriate response.
“Nothing did stop, when I got up it was as if I ran into the ocean and found my self on a new beach 20 minutes later. There is nowhere left to go. Your first son found a new life far away, and your daughter is out of reach, and it is my fault.”
These words and ideas were a far stretch of quasi-philosophical talk, but after so many years of holding back, why not? If this is real I am not sure I am prepared for the morning after, being honest feels as liberating as it can until hours pass and it finally sets in, humans hate awkward moments, my life is filled with awkward moments, I guess I hate my life.
“If this was all in your head you will feel quite silly one day. And if it is all true, I will always be here for you.”
There was an odd comfort in her acknowledgement of either my drunk imagination or life shattering revelations, as a good mother she left all bases covered.
“Now it is time for you to leave, you don’t want to be late.”
I didn’t think I had anywhere to be, but when she said it I became nervous and stirred, being on time was one of the only things we had control over, so I slid out of the chair and walked. I wasn’t sure if there was a door in front of me, or if it would open up to anything, but I turned a knob and forced a foot outside. I went somewhere, there was life here, I could not see it, I could not feel it, I could not hear it, it was just one of those things I had to assume. Behind me the door shut, I realized I never looked back, I never said goodbye to her, I turned back and touched the knob again, but my shaking hand refused to turn it. Staring at the door eye to eye, I did not want to know the truth of what was behind it. I did not want to know, in neglect the things that were there before become immortal, as long as I never open that door, the blue countertop waits.
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