Her eyes filled with tears. She was still gathering herself together in the bathroom. Anna kept calling mom, and she knew she had to step out and talk to her daughter. It was tough and she wished she could creep up on her bed and sleep, probably take the day off. Maybe I am a bad mother, she thought. She struggled to convince herself she was better than that. I’ve got so much to do but there are only so many hours in a day.
She was a mother of 2 and her husband, Paul was still away on business. No he wasn’t cheating and he cared a lot about the children. She somehow felt she wasn’t going to live long enough and behind all the masks of the different roles she played in her life she always knew it was going to be about loneliness and the peace she would eventually find before she died. We come alone, we live alone and we die alone, the rest is all a farce. She couldn’t hide that from herself and today it had significance over her because she had a bad dream.
“I’m coming” she yelled and tried to pull herself together. If it really means anything I should make my peace with it sooner rather than later. Her friends would never agree, neither would her sister. Once she was young and carefree and she longed for that time. Her life had been about living in the moment. The first crush, the first love and the first everything. She cared and she cared too much and the responsibilities she took with each passing year made her who she really had become. She hated philosophy because of the realization it gave to her sometimes and it wasn’t just about the death but everything else.
She prayed to her god and it wasn’t the god she visited every Sunday but her own god, formless and powerless. The power was always inside of her and she knew early that a god was someone she had been relying on just to ask favors or blame every night she went to bed. The thankfulness to the god came from her power of doing the things she really valued and wanted to. Today, she wanted courage and as she sat there waiting to gain it, she kept revisiting her childhood. Nobody ever told her anything and she always felt the desire to tell her kids as they grew up what it meant living with it. Soon enough she realized that this was not something she could say but Anna had to learn, so did Matt.
She wiped her tears, washed her face and opened the door to leave. The thoughts remained in the room as it looked bright, just like her life.
References (to all the interested people):
Title is play on On a Sunday of Life an album by Porcupine Tree.
I’ve got so much to do but there are only so many hours in a day is from a line in Vienna by Billy Joel.
Dedicated to VR who reminds me of what I’m so passionate about.