At Rest

I need to take a breather, with so many things happening all at the same time. So here I am, back in cyberspace, talking to myself (or to you, depending on which perspective you care to take) and trying to get myself in a state of vegetative relaxation on a Friday night. Note, this is a very hard task to accomplish precisely BECAUSE it is a Friday night.

But I will persevere. Because my mind needs it. One month of no RESET-button pushing, and I find myself overly stressed over the simplest of complications.

Hark, however, to my artistic side. It has been coming out, slowly but surely, and at the moment, I can declare that my left and right brain are functioning in harmony and equal spurts.

I'm sure some will scoff and some will disagree, but this is how I see it. And I won't push that backspace button to make you happy. Screw you. Ahem. I'm fine.

Hahaha, see that's the stressed-out me waterfalling down to the tiniest voice in my head. Maybe I need a drink.

I'm beginning to think there's a schizophrenic part of me. Sigh. Maybe that's the reason for the "zhinesade" name, different from my real nickname (which is, incidentally, very different from my real one).

ANYWAY...back to the ME you all know for a few secs. Here's a few braincells for chewing on:

Tick-tock, sounded the clock. She waits with eyes closed, willing the time to stop, for once in her life. She waits for a call that will never come. She had asked her son-in-law to give her daughter the message. He either forgot to tell Tanya, or she didn't care.
"Please God, give me the patience and strength to wait", she pled.

Two days later, she was gone. And Tanya was nowhere to be found.

Rising up from what seemed to be an empty church, she thought, "but I thought you said children always came back to their mothers?"
From where she saw the approaching comforting blue light, someone seemed to say, "Yes, but WHEN they come back is something only you will know in time".

She sighed, hope draining out of her, the light moving farther away, the darkness, slowly closing in on her. It was her fault, she knew. She never uttered the right words. Was never able to humble herself. How could her daughter forgive her? How could her daughter believe she meant it that last time?
And for what seemed like an eternity of an earthen minute, she wept for her daughter, for the mother she should've been to her, for the family she deserved and never got, for the childhood she lost.

Suddenly, she heard a voice. "Don't cry, ma. I'm right here. There's nothing to be worried about."

It was Tanya.

"But...but...I'm still alive?"

"I came here before you did, ma. I passed through here right after you called Pete. I sped to your house as soon as Pete told me your message. I somehow drove my car straight into nothingness, and then this," she said smiling.

Once again, Tanya was 8 and her mother was beautiful and young. Her mother didn't know what to say. Tanya was 8 when she started getting into the wrong habit, which led her to slide away from the family she loved. This can't be real, she thought.
"Let's go, ma," said Tanya in her adorable little voice, eyes wide and expectant, disrupting her mother's thoughts.
"Where, baby?"
"You know where," Tanya replied.

They walked toward the expansive blue, swaying their intertwined hands as they went, Tanya giggling, and her mother looking content.

All was well for a moment.

And then twins were born.