She shut the door closed. And then, that was done. The flood gates opened up. Finally, they could run free. As she wept her anger way, the tears left her with a sense of void, a vaccum that surprised her. She had expected relief, not this dull throbbing nothingness.
There was no telling about what she wanted, after a long bitter battle , she had finally closed the doors and had vowed never to look back.
Why the ache in the pit of her stomach then?
~~~~~
she had opened herself up to accomodate him.
Her body, her mind, her life, her habits, everything moved to accomodate him. Everything she did, now had his tinge, his musky smell a mixture of deospray, cigarettes and his sweaty chest- which she hated at the beginning, but had now begun to tolerate, and God help her, almost even like.
She began to accept those phone calls which irritated her in the beginning to be a part of life, as did she began to accept those stubby hands that crept up her waist destroying her REM cycle. his baritone, his slight deafness, his "Im always right" attitude,
she had just adjusted herself to work around this. She had retailored her life around him, his whims and fancies.
And then came the daughter, and life, if she did have any semblance of it left, just ended as she knew it. Equations changed, words and their meanings changed, colors changed. time warped. everything was distorted now; everything was lost, and nothing was found. It was this nothing that she still held on to, she told herself, if I think hard about it, this, uncomfortable feeling, this sense of being choked, might actually feel good. It might actually turn into love.
~~~~~
What triggered it? She would later think about her history teacher telling the class that the wars that changed the landscape of the earth, often began with a small transgression, which otherwise would go unnoticeable in the canvas of world history.
Whatever led to it, however it had shaped up, she had reached this point today.
She was back where she started, albeit minus her youth, her vibrancy and her will to live. She was altered in a way that could not be "unaltered", she had changed in ways that were almost unimaginable, her outlook to life, her responses to life, everything, including the color of her hair had changed.
Time isnt furniture that once changed, you can drag it back the place that lounge chair was, so the room looked the same again.
Time was everchanging, to yearn and want the past might be human nature, but is the impossible, the one thing that Man hasnt learnt to manipulate.
~~~~~
The aching void gave way to a fit of laughter. The realisation that she was now alone. That she could finally smell and hold silence, that she could sigh and hear the sound echo around the house, that she could order a pizza without being lectured about cheese, that she could watch TV and play a game all at the same time, without demands for coffee and milk and a thousand other tiny things.
That she could be a human being, and not a work mule from egypt, that she could stand in the mirror and like what she saw, without having to avert her eyes.
And she laughed. the sound felt foriegn to her ears. It was ages since laughter had bubbled up like this, ages since laughter had actually emanated from the depths of her soul.
She looked at the papers she clutched in her hand, un-creased them, re-read them, tears streaming down her face, tears of joy, of happiness. and in that instant, she almost believed. that instant, she WANTED to believe. in god. for delivering her freedom back, for allowing her to respect herself, her gender, her likes, her demands, her sense of self, her soul.
Divorced. she whispered to herself. Divorced, she shouted out to the world, heard the echo in the empty house, Divorced - she called out to her dead parents.
Divorced, and she began to laugh again. Laughter filled with joy and relief.
Laughter that came 10 years too late.
There was no telling about what she wanted, after a long bitter battle , she had finally closed the doors and had vowed never to look back.
Why the ache in the pit of her stomach then?
~~~~~
she had opened herself up to accomodate him.
Her body, her mind, her life, her habits, everything moved to accomodate him. Everything she did, now had his tinge, his musky smell a mixture of deospray, cigarettes and his sweaty chest- which she hated at the beginning, but had now begun to tolerate, and God help her, almost even like.
She began to accept those phone calls which irritated her in the beginning to be a part of life, as did she began to accept those stubby hands that crept up her waist destroying her REM cycle. his baritone, his slight deafness, his "Im always right" attitude,
she had just adjusted herself to work around this. She had retailored her life around him, his whims and fancies.
And then came the daughter, and life, if she did have any semblance of it left, just ended as she knew it. Equations changed, words and their meanings changed, colors changed. time warped. everything was distorted now; everything was lost, and nothing was found. It was this nothing that she still held on to, she told herself, if I think hard about it, this, uncomfortable feeling, this sense of being choked, might actually feel good. It might actually turn into love.
~~~~~
What triggered it? She would later think about her history teacher telling the class that the wars that changed the landscape of the earth, often began with a small transgression, which otherwise would go unnoticeable in the canvas of world history.
Whatever led to it, however it had shaped up, she had reached this point today.
She was back where she started, albeit minus her youth, her vibrancy and her will to live. She was altered in a way that could not be "unaltered", she had changed in ways that were almost unimaginable, her outlook to life, her responses to life, everything, including the color of her hair had changed.
Time isnt furniture that once changed, you can drag it back the place that lounge chair was, so the room looked the same again.
Time was everchanging, to yearn and want the past might be human nature, but is the impossible, the one thing that Man hasnt learnt to manipulate.
~~~~~
The aching void gave way to a fit of laughter. The realisation that she was now alone. That she could finally smell and hold silence, that she could sigh and hear the sound echo around the house, that she could order a pizza without being lectured about cheese, that she could watch TV and play a game all at the same time, without demands for coffee and milk and a thousand other tiny things.
That she could be a human being, and not a work mule from egypt, that she could stand in the mirror and like what she saw, without having to avert her eyes.
And she laughed. the sound felt foriegn to her ears. It was ages since laughter had bubbled up like this, ages since laughter had actually emanated from the depths of her soul.
She looked at the papers she clutched in her hand, un-creased them, re-read them, tears streaming down her face, tears of joy, of happiness. and in that instant, she almost believed. that instant, she WANTED to believe. in god. for delivering her freedom back, for allowing her to respect herself, her gender, her likes, her demands, her sense of self, her soul.
Divorced. she whispered to herself. Divorced, she shouted out to the world, heard the echo in the empty house, Divorced - she called out to her dead parents.
Divorced, and she began to laugh again. Laughter filled with joy and relief.
Laughter that came 10 years too late.
