Memory is a collection of images, feelings and impressions, some lose them, some print them indelibly on their minds. Life gave me many reasons to take it for granted, and sadly i did, but was that my only mistake, or was it really my own mistake that i married a man only to wake up one morning and find him nowhere, and soon after that carry my only son to hospitals hiding him from the judging eyes of the society. I don't have the time to find answers. I am angry at myself, I am ashamed. What will people think about it? It will angry people.
Now time has passed, and so has my son. My present is the evil of a premonition i never had. All that is left for me is to wake up every morning, gather the pieces of my shredded life, and see them shatter all over again right in front of my eyes. I am alone. I am scared. Ask me if i saw this coming. The delight of having a perfect family blinded me of the distance that Ron had started keeping from me. Our wedding was perfect and when Arnold was born, Ron and I were the happiest. We always had the best moments, and even today, those memories can bring a smile to my face.
The state of being indistinct and indefinite for lack of adequate illumination is the obscurity that I now live in. The fleeting glorious days are history and will never return. A desire for tolerance will only be another reason for guilt. Do I acknowledge peace in knowing that, neither my husband nor my son had to experience this pain, or do I weep over my lonesome and cursed life?
With no family, no succor, and no faith in god, I look at a dark space to walk into, or think of looking for the bright white light, but fear the wind would fly my shredded life away in a moment of beguilement or a blink of an eye.
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