Dragons, Flames & Fears

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Today I write to that lump in my throat that announces the arrival of a series of howl-filled cries interrupted by brief phases of silence reserved for reflecting. My hands shiver, my head reels, and I am unable to breathe. I want to run as fast as I can, screaming my heart out, terrorizing the entire world with the horrendous noise of agony and self-inflicted pain. My universe, limited by Little D, me, our petty issues, and life, is under threat now. This magical universe of mine has been fed to fire. I can feel the heat, I am burning; I can feel the burnt meat against my charring bones, I see how ugly I look. I see Little D in a corner, flabbergasted by all the action and light around her. She shouts for me “Mom, fire – fire is hot, fire burns”. Yes, I had taught her that – or was it my mom? Well, she has always had 2 mothers. Maybe she was referring to the other mom - ammamma – the more patient one; the better one.

Fear is nasty, fear is unkind. It sweeps you off your feet like your prince charming would and changes your life forever – except that it doesn’t own a white horse or a set of shining armor. All fear can boast of is its ever-hungry flames that can gulp down everything living, non-living and imaginary. Today, I was the chosen one. As I slip into its gut through the molten, golden throat, I am broken in half, in quarters, and then into a million tiny pieces. I feel pain. I wish to spend a few more minutes with Little D, I wish for this to be a dream; that this was God telling me to get my game right. But not every time does one get another chance.

Fear. Tear. Unclear. I tried to think of words that rhymed with fear, the ones that made sense to me while I smiled getting lost in the faded memoirs of good days in the company of good people.

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