She met that little girl in the forest almost fifteen years ago. She just turned forty then, her marriage was tethering, on the edge of falling apart and her baby daughter was only four months. She had looked into the mirror that evening to find that she had aged immensely. The lines of what used to be her smile now became deep creases which made her look miserable. Maybe it was merely an externalization of the way she felt. But those two lines by the side of her mouth running from the sides of her nose to the corners of her lips were clear and deep, stains of a smile she had faked so many times, now nightmarishly she could not wipe it off. They were like the stains of milk on the glass she could never completely wash off, only they were worse. Worse, because they laughed their little evil laughs at her. As if they wanted her to see something ugly inside herself, daring her to destroy them and destroy herself along with them at the same time. She had felt afraid. She had been feeling afraid for the past three weeks. Her husband had not returned home in days now. She knew he was in love with someone else. Someone else who did not have two evil lines staring her in the face everytime she looked at herself in the mirror and everytime she let her smile drop. Love. She had tried to keep the word out of her mind for a month now. She did not want to think of what it meant between herself and her husband. And she was afraid she did not know what it meant all along. If she did know love, why then, did she feel so empty and hollow evertime she looked at her baby daughter. They had named her Anabelle, a name she later found out to mean "lovable." She was afraid that she did not love her child the way she was supposed to. She was fearful that she had already lost her husband's love a long time ago. She was angry with herself. Angry because it was her fault that she did not know how to love.
She had been staring at her reflection for two whole hours. It was the baby's cry that broke her dark spell. She went to the baby's room, carried the child whose name was love and found that she wanted to throw up. She could not stand the soft scent of milk and honey and the promise of love. The child would not stop crying. She looked out the window, it was dark outside and it was drizzling. The sound of the rain made her think of oil jumping impatiently on the frying pan. She slammed the windows shut, to block out that horrible sound and thought of leaving the gas running until it filled this house, until it filled all her hollow spots so that she would be so full she would overflow her own being till she emptied herself and withered like a dead skin. The baby kept crying. To stop herself from throwing herself and the baby out of the second floor window, she left the house in the light rain. She ran, not knowing where her desperate legs would take her.
She ran along the field she and her husband had so loved when they first moved in nine years ago. They had laughed and named the field, "the field of sour lemons" because of the hard, shrunken look it had whenever the sun set, lighting up the scraggy grass so that the field looked like it was in a constant state of sneering and squinting at the sun. He used to tease her that it was the perfect spot for a sour person like her. Now she ran into the darkness, no traces of lemons or anything, only this black mouth she dived into hoping to be swallowed. Swallowed completely so that nothing of her would remain. Not her name, not her clothes. not her smile, not her smell, not her memory. Not a trace of her existence.
The rain grew wild, and the winds tossed the grass around her like a lunatic. She flew like a bird-- lost, confused and out of control into the sea of darkness. She was swept by the wild wind into the nearby forest to take shelter from the now downpouring rain as if the bladder in the sky had exploded. The rain was urgent and the wind moaned the loss. In its heaviness, the piercing rain ripped the membrane which kept the world safe. Now the world was savage and uninhibited, it could harm, maim and kill as it pleased. She crouched under a tree. In the darkness, the rain was only hungry sounds and the sensation of needles stabbing deep. In the darkness she thought she saw glowing lights, like gems inside a cave throwing the illusion of desire where shadows became deep and distorted.
Then like magic, she saw the umbrella, white and glowing in the dark. It was bobbing clumsily among the trees and shrubs and it was making its way slowly but surely towards her. It was a vision, she was certain, of an apparition of the forest, angered by her intrusion or perhaps hungry for her lost soul asking to be taken. In the dark and the rain, it seemed as if it was floating towards her. There was once she had seen jellyfish glowing in a dark aquarium, she was very young then and in that instant, it felt as if it was only her and the jellyfish in the whole of the universe. The feeling of awe was the same. It swept and washed over her, giving her chills which rose into a silent sigh. The umbrella apparition came towards her, glowing white and warm like fresh linen on a sunny day. It was luminous and clean-- unearthly in the darkness, in the forest, in the rain. A little girl of about twelve was holding it, she walked towards her the umbrella glowed like the moon of a lesser sky.
The little girl beckoned with a little waving motion of her hand for her to take shelter under her umbrella. Entranced, she stood up and walked to the little girl. The girl seemed to radiate warmth, without understanding why, she knew she trusted the little girl. The little girl said nothing but smiled at her. They walked for a long time in silence. She knew not where she was being led to by the little girl but she did not ask. It is often the case, that when confronted with the truly mystifying, the human mind skips over the questions like a river running over the rocks. Everything felt natural and sure even though she had no idea what would happen next. All she did was to walk, on a kind of blind faith. The blind faith of children that trusts the hand which leads them.
The rain had stopped. After what seemed like a walk for hours, they arrived at a fork in the road. The little girl, took her hand shook it and then pointed for her to take the road which led to West, while she gestured that she would take the road leading East. The little girl still holding the glowing white umbrella then walked without looking back. She stood there looking for a long time after the little girl left. There was something familiar about that little girl, something about the girl which reminded her of herself at twelve. Still, the world was now quiet after the storm. She looked up to see the moon a thin smile slitting the dark sky like a knife. She was afraid of the dark road and the night then. She ran down the road, hoping to spot her home, her life, her sanctuary.
She prayed as she walked down that dark road. She promised that she would start everything anew, give herself and her baby and her husband the chance for a new beginning if she made it home. She walked in what seemed like an endless night. Darkness which stretched on impossibly, but then like a miracle, she saw the familiar porch, the garden and the driveway glowing warmth, promising safety. The lights streaming from the windows seemed like arms outstretched to her drenched in the night and the cold. She ran wildly for the front door. When she flung it open her husband was standing worried. When he held her after the eternity of that moment of hesitation between the two of them, she knew everything was going to be alright. She was home.
She had been staring at her reflection for two whole hours. It was the baby's cry that broke her dark spell. She went to the baby's room, carried the child whose name was love and found that she wanted to throw up. She could not stand the soft scent of milk and honey and the promise of love. The child would not stop crying. She looked out the window, it was dark outside and it was drizzling. The sound of the rain made her think of oil jumping impatiently on the frying pan. She slammed the windows shut, to block out that horrible sound and thought of leaving the gas running until it filled this house, until it filled all her hollow spots so that she would be so full she would overflow her own being till she emptied herself and withered like a dead skin. The baby kept crying. To stop herself from throwing herself and the baby out of the second floor window, she left the house in the light rain. She ran, not knowing where her desperate legs would take her.
She ran along the field she and her husband had so loved when they first moved in nine years ago. They had laughed and named the field, "the field of sour lemons" because of the hard, shrunken look it had whenever the sun set, lighting up the scraggy grass so that the field looked like it was in a constant state of sneering and squinting at the sun. He used to tease her that it was the perfect spot for a sour person like her. Now she ran into the darkness, no traces of lemons or anything, only this black mouth she dived into hoping to be swallowed. Swallowed completely so that nothing of her would remain. Not her name, not her clothes. not her smile, not her smell, not her memory. Not a trace of her existence.
The rain grew wild, and the winds tossed the grass around her like a lunatic. She flew like a bird-- lost, confused and out of control into the sea of darkness. She was swept by the wild wind into the nearby forest to take shelter from the now downpouring rain as if the bladder in the sky had exploded. The rain was urgent and the wind moaned the loss. In its heaviness, the piercing rain ripped the membrane which kept the world safe. Now the world was savage and uninhibited, it could harm, maim and kill as it pleased. She crouched under a tree. In the darkness, the rain was only hungry sounds and the sensation of needles stabbing deep. In the darkness she thought she saw glowing lights, like gems inside a cave throwing the illusion of desire where shadows became deep and distorted.
Then like magic, she saw the umbrella, white and glowing in the dark. It was bobbing clumsily among the trees and shrubs and it was making its way slowly but surely towards her. It was a vision, she was certain, of an apparition of the forest, angered by her intrusion or perhaps hungry for her lost soul asking to be taken. In the dark and the rain, it seemed as if it was floating towards her. There was once she had seen jellyfish glowing in a dark aquarium, she was very young then and in that instant, it felt as if it was only her and the jellyfish in the whole of the universe. The feeling of awe was the same. It swept and washed over her, giving her chills which rose into a silent sigh. The umbrella apparition came towards her, glowing white and warm like fresh linen on a sunny day. It was luminous and clean-- unearthly in the darkness, in the forest, in the rain. A little girl of about twelve was holding it, she walked towards her the umbrella glowed like the moon of a lesser sky.
The little girl beckoned with a little waving motion of her hand for her to take shelter under her umbrella. Entranced, she stood up and walked to the little girl. The girl seemed to radiate warmth, without understanding why, she knew she trusted the little girl. The little girl said nothing but smiled at her. They walked for a long time in silence. She knew not where she was being led to by the little girl but she did not ask. It is often the case, that when confronted with the truly mystifying, the human mind skips over the questions like a river running over the rocks. Everything felt natural and sure even though she had no idea what would happen next. All she did was to walk, on a kind of blind faith. The blind faith of children that trusts the hand which leads them.
The rain had stopped. After what seemed like a walk for hours, they arrived at a fork in the road. The little girl, took her hand shook it and then pointed for her to take the road which led to West, while she gestured that she would take the road leading East. The little girl still holding the glowing white umbrella then walked without looking back. She stood there looking for a long time after the little girl left. There was something familiar about that little girl, something about the girl which reminded her of herself at twelve. Still, the world was now quiet after the storm. She looked up to see the moon a thin smile slitting the dark sky like a knife. She was afraid of the dark road and the night then. She ran down the road, hoping to spot her home, her life, her sanctuary.
She prayed as she walked down that dark road. She promised that she would start everything anew, give herself and her baby and her husband the chance for a new beginning if she made it home. She walked in what seemed like an endless night. Darkness which stretched on impossibly, but then like a miracle, she saw the familiar porch, the garden and the driveway glowing warmth, promising safety. The lights streaming from the windows seemed like arms outstretched to her drenched in the night and the cold. She ran wildly for the front door. When she flung it open her husband was standing worried. When he held her after the eternity of that moment of hesitation between the two of them, she knew everything was going to be alright. She was home.
posted by Nippy at 11:42 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home