Mom’s examinations
So last night I had this dream.
Mom was in it. Yeah, it’s been a while since she’s spoken to me. After all, she’s been gone a little over 11 years now.
She was silent, just looking at me. She reached out and grabbed my hand, slowly examining the fingers, stroking the nails and scratching something into the palm of my hand.
I wondered if it was a blessing or a curse. I asked her so, half jokingly. She said nothing.
And she looked at me, with her forehead crinkled. Just like mine tends to crinkle in pensiveness. Standing there together, a moment, it seemed as if I was under study. Observation. I was more than a little self conscious and began to think (all in my dream mind you) of retorts and excuses for what I anticipated to be a slew of judgements and criticisms that were waiting to be released on me.
Instead, mother just turned my hand over again and curled my hand in hers again. She then delicately twirled the ring (hers, the white gold one that she gave me just days before she died) around my middle finger again, sighed, and smiled at me before disapearing in a silver mist.
I’m not quite sure what it meant, but it’s made me overall self conscious in my waking hours.
I’ve felt quiet of late. Not writing muchly here, and extraordinarily reticent about sharting stuff of late. Unless you’re dearest to my heart and I’ve already shown you my pandora’s box of little troubles. It’s been weird.
I owe you nothing. I owe myself everything. Remember that.
Debts of conscience are already overdue to others before you.
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