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"You only lose what you cling to." - Buddha
#MothersDayStory
The time had come to start my journey. I leaned out of the window, waving as long as I could while she disappeared into the distance. It felt like I was parting with a piece of my heart. Not parting willingly, but as if someone had reached into my body, and plucked my heart out. And stomped on it, with both feet for a good measure. The pain was intense, yet I didn't let it show on my face. My expression was happy, smiling, even. The tears were held back, after all practice does make perfect. The road was bumpy, and after I hit my head, a little too many times for my comfort, I withdrew it. A single tear rolled down my cheek. Paving way for its fellow water droplets. I closed my eyes tightly, squeezing the moisture from them. I took a deep breath, and comforted myself, "I will be okay. I will survive.". I chanted this as a mantra, over and over again, till my breathing stabilized. Straightening my shoulders, I counselled myself that this was not the end and life would go on - limping but moving ahead. Shakespeare got it right, when he penned, "Parting is such sweet sorrow". I craned my neck, risking a head injury, to see if I could catch a last glance of her. Visibility was poor, challenged by the ever increasing distance. But I could just make out the wisps of nothingness, while she disappeared. Many thoughts crowded my head. Leaving a part of you - part that ruled over you - for so long, that despite being a prisoner of it, you accepted it, were resigned to it. Hid in its shadow, used its darkness to lose yourself. Leaving it, to walk in the light again, to lift your face to the sun, took a immense courage, and strength to kick the habit. Likewise, stepping away from an addictive trait was akin to saying goodbye to a part of yourself, albeit an undesirable part, but still a piece of you, and however, imperative it may be. I knew that, like the road, life ahead was bumpy, and would offer up. many situations, where I would be challenged, tempted, even, to seek the comfort of the bottle, to lose myself in its fragnant, liquid and unjudgemental pool, but if I could starve the temptation, I could make it - no, I would make it. That is why I cried while proverbially, waving goodbye to myself, as I started on a new journey. I felt refreshed, almost as reborn. As if I was giving birth to a new me, a new life. And just like a new infant, I would be dependent on my inner strength to survive. For all practical reasons, I was a new mother, and a needy infant, all rolled in one being. I smiled to myself, put my, prone to injury, head down, and whispered to myself, "Happy Mother's day, you!".
© Natasha Sharma
The time had come to start my journey. I leaned out of the window, waving as long as I could while she disappeared into the distance. It felt like I was parting with a piece of my heart. Not parting willingly, but as if someone had reached into my body, and plucked my heart out. And stomped on it, with both feet for a good measure. The pain was intense, yet I didn't let it show on my face. My expression was happy, smiling, even. The tears were held back, after all practice does make perfect. The road was bumpy, and after I hit my head, a little too many times for my comfort, I withdrew it. A single tear rolled down my cheek. Paving way for its fellow water droplets. I closed my eyes tightly, squeezing the moisture from them. I took a deep breath, and comforted myself, "I will be okay. I will survive.". I chanted this as a mantra, over and over again, till my breathing stabilized. Straightening my shoulders, I counselled myself that this was not the end and life would go on - limping but moving ahead. Shakespeare got it right, when he penned, "Parting is such sweet sorrow". I craned my neck, risking a head injury, to see if I could catch a last glance of her. Visibility was poor, challenged by the ever increasing distance. But I could just make out the wisps of nothingness, while she disappeared. Many thoughts crowded my head. Leaving a part of you - part that ruled over you - for so long, that despite being a prisoner of it, you accepted it, were resigned to it. Hid in its shadow, used its darkness to lose yourself. Leaving it, to walk in the light again, to lift your face to the sun, took a immense courage, and strength to kick the habit. Likewise, stepping away from an addictive trait was akin to saying goodbye to a part of yourself, albeit an undesirable part, but still a piece of you, and however, imperative it may be. I knew that, like the road, life ahead was bumpy, and would offer up. many situations, where I would be challenged, tempted, even, to seek the comfort of the bottle, to lose myself in its fragnant, liquid and unjudgemental pool, but if I could starve the temptation, I could make it - no, I would make it. That is why I cried while proverbially, waving goodbye to myself, as I started on a new journey. I felt refreshed, almost as reborn. As if I was giving birth to a new me, a new life. And just like a new infant, I would be dependent on my inner strength to survive. For all practical reasons, I was a new mother, and a needy infant, all rolled in one being. I smiled to myself, put my, prone to injury, head down, and whispered to myself, "Happy Mother's day, you!".
© Natasha Sharma
