Confessions of a dangerous mind

There is nothing more dangerous than a person who does not have remorse for a wrong act. I read that somewhere or maybe I just made it up. I don't know. I don't quite know reality from make-believe.
I am being held a prisoner. I meet with the prison psychiatrist once a day so that he can evaluate my sanity. I think everyone is a little insane. They shield it with tightly stretched sanity. It breaks now and then. Others choose to hide it and I don't. I gave into my whims. Lived the moment, so to speak. My temper is violent, my love is intense. My laugh is loud, my crying sobs are louder. I sit so still sometimes to contemplate on the dust floating in light, sometimes I run around the room to match the speed of light- that makes me really dizzy.
I speak with great people constantly. I have adventures everyday. I traipse off to Cairo one instant to the time of the pharaohs. Sometimes I wake up in the Victorian England, I think I have perfected my English accent. Stone age, the dark ages, the middle ages, I have lived them everyday.
I love books. I love how the authors get under my skin and whisper their true meanings to me. It is is all a big plot. A big conspiracy. Everyone wants to love me, everyone wants to be my best friend.   And everyone wants to kill me. She did too. She said I was sick and I needed to let her go. But I needed to feel. To feel loved. She did not love me anymore.
I look for her in the courtroom. She is not there. And then I realize she is sitting up there with the judge. I smile and wave.
The jury decides to call me insane. Aren't we all a little insane underneath?

The empty nest

I know that I have some white lace. I think it's in the attic and decide to look up there. Switching on the light, I am confronted by stark and brutal reality. I am a hoarder! I see the gilded vase that I got in a garage sale. A miniature figurine barn set that I won in an office raffle. And I also see the white wedding gown that was a friend gave me because it was too bulky to carry with her across the country, she was divorced and our people did not marry in gowns. I look through a chest- self made from a carpentry class that I thought would become a hobby. Thank God it did not.
And then beside the chest I notice boxes. With names of both my children. Toys. My youngest one moved out 5 years ago. It's been a quiet house with regular people, no hormonal tantrums, no impassioned speeches about downtrodden rights, no midnight sneaking to friends' house.
I open it. Toys are wrapped in no particular order. Action figures hug Barbie dolls. Plush toys with Raggedy Ann dolls. Boxes of jigsaw puzzles that have peeled and torn from constant and nonchalant usage.Lots of teapots and cups and saucers. I also see a couple of real silver forks and a pizza cutter. I spy a stethoscope. I plug it in my ears and hear my heart.
The foremost beat of a mother's heart. Steady and yet constantly aflutter. My babies went through a phase where all they could do was wait for the next day to start so that they could play with these toys again. Now they are too busy in their lives, thinking of the work next day. Their life has consumed them and I often hear them muttering about their life plan going to the dogs.
I put the stethoscope back. I gently touch the toys in a sweep. And I close the box.

A man's life..

The lady walks in hesitantly. She pauses in front of the elevator to check if she has the correct floor. Her eyes are swollen and red. She stops in front of my desk. I get a call at that moment. I wave a sorry to her saying it will take just a moment. She waits patiently.
I hang up the phone. She tells me her husband worked in our office. He died three days ago. He has been cremated. She wonders if I have a final payment ready. I ask her his name. I don't recognize it. I check the records. The computer tells me he has been employed for 34 years. 34 years and I have never seen him, and I usually see them all!
I begin the process for the payment and tell her the check should be ready in about 5 hrs time. She asks me if she can wait in the lobby itself. I tell her to go ahead and point out the coffee machine. She takes a cup and sits in the corner. She closes her eyes after a sip. I can see her years etched on her forehead. I go and sit beside her. A few words are all it takes.
He woke up everyday at 6. Came to office at 8.30. Took his packed lunch- a sandwich and a fruit, exactly at 1.30. He went home at 7. He had his dinner at 8.30 and went to bed at 10 after kissing his wife. This was his workday. He had this routine even on weekends, instead of working at the office, he cleaned the house, helped her with laundry and took care of the kids while she slept. Even on the day he died, he had his dinner, kissed her and went to bed. And never woke up.
He was a quiet man, with a great sense of humor. He could quote Shakespeare and Wodehouse. He had a crackling laugh but was tone deaf.
The check is ready. I give it to her. Her eyes look relieved at the substantial amount. She smiles at me and walks away.
I update my records- Employee account closed. Person deceased. That is all I have to say to 34 years of diligence and 58 years of life.

#67

What you think looks good in the mirror may not really look good in a photograph. The eyes of the beholder are forgiving while the camera lens is not!

#92

You know you are old, when a song makes you smile and shake your head thinking of the good old days. You also contemplate on how much things have changed and how much you have changed.

Missing

I was so upset that they shouted at me last night. Maybe I should get up now. I can only see the sun coming out. I decide I will go out- it's cool and pleasant. I think maybe a snack will do good too. I grab my back pack, stuff my binoculars and go down to the kitchen. I pack a water bottle. Then it strikes me, I should take some cookies and milk, they would be totally awesome.
The cookie jar is a white pig. I climb on the counter and try reaching it. It comes down with a crash. Uh-oh! I grab the cookies and stuff them into my bag. There's also some money in there. I just take it by the handful and stuff it inside the nearest drawer.
I hear someone coming down the stairs and I rush out. I am not really in the mood to talk to them after how they shouted at me for running away from school. School is boring. And it was nice yesterday.
I go through the back door to the garden and through the garden to the field. I can hear some critters scurrying- they must be foraging for food. I go the the pond, feed the ducks some crumbs of the cookies. I splash water with my feet. I scratch cows in a field; they are so lazy, aren't they? I pilfer some apples from a cart that is loaded with apples- they wont miss two...ok...four!
I watch some horses run to and fro. I get dusty when a dusty wind blows. I dust off my dress and go the rail tracks. I put my ears to see if there's one coming. Yup! I watch it go thundering by. And after the last car is out of sight, I put my ears again on the tracks. I walk on one of it balancing like a tightrope star. It is getting late. Will go home now, a little hungry!
As I approach the house, I see cars, quite a few of them. A sherrif's, my nana's and my principal's. Uh-oh. School day! I approach with caution.
As I enter the living room, all pairs of eyes turn to see me. Furrowed brows, teary eyes, is anyone dead? I am anxious. I open my mouth to explain and my mom comes rushing to hold me and smothers me. My father envelopes both of us and smells my hair.
Maybe I can get a slice of chocolate cake too.

The couch potato

The door slams shut. Both of them enter the living room, talking animatedly. As they enter the living room, they glance towards me and their discussion stops. I don't look at them. I continue munching the popcorn. The butter is a little less, and I should have not added the extra dash of salt.
Wile E Coyote gets slammed by the anvil and the roadrunner beeps. I laugh at this joke every single time. It is funny if you think about it. And during the commercial, which I mute, I can hear them talking in the kitchen. One conversation that I have heard in multitude combinations of anger, disappointment, frustration and acceptance. Today she is frustrated and he is consoling. She wonders if I will ever step out of the house. If I will ever grow up and let go. He says to give it time. That I would definitely go out of the house soon. I need to do it in my own way.
I like this couch. It is well cushioned and I also have a blanket if I am too cold. This feels safe. I lost my best friend to a mugging gone bad. My grandmother was hit by a car and was paralyzed till her last breath. And I see the news everyday- I hear of so many accidents, deaths. And the food is good. It never hurts me and fills me up so that I don't think beyond my growing waistline. I am not a couch potato. I am a coward and am deathly scared to go out.
My mother comes and sits near me. My father on the other side. He takes some of the pop-corn. We all hold hands as we watch the coyote being blown up. Beep Beep.