The Goog Nooz Is...

She's got the prettiest smile, two giant incisors, and dimples that could suck out all the negative energy from the world. She's beautiful to look at.  She's a princess. She's two years old.  I have more of these. One is three years old. Why then did I think I could leave that behind?  He's gorgeous. Taller than me. Eyes that can end wars and the softest shag of hair you can ever find on a boy. His 19-year-old, bright eyes look to me for protection against the world's demands. Who did I think I would leave that for? How could I think it would be acceptable to turn those eyes red and break that heart into a million shards? I look like her. Others still think we are sisters. We giggle at the very sight of each other. There is never a silent moment when we're together. She has a heart of gold, and I'm jealous because I share her with the world, but I'm also proud that I share her with the world. I am the beginning of her reproductive energy....

I suspected that this would be my last opportunity to hold her close to me. The scene was less than ideal. She needed to relieve herself. Robbed of her youthful agility by a stroke ten years prior, and further incapacitated by deep grief from losing all her younger siblings, she was unable to help herself up, let alone walk to a latrine. I had learnt to lift her to her feet in a way that does not hurt her tender areas. I always dreaded the idea of other people performing this task on her. I always felt that others lacked the deep empathy I felt for her. She was my mother after all. She gave birth to my mother but was my mother herself. She was always "ma" and never "gogo." On this day, she seemed helpless. Succumbing to death's inescapable call was almost certain. A grey pall had fallen over her usually butter-yellow skin, reflecting the curtains of the deep hollows she would soon descend to, on the back of that age-old enemy, death. 

Could this life thing hurry up and wrap it up already. I've obviously overstayed my welcome, I get it.  At some point a semblance of normalcy has to rear its head. I have to wake up and endure traffic, office banter, politics and loadshedding like everyone else. I'd rather enjoy those things, than endure being in a body that relays its hatred towards me every 2 weeks. Essentially deeming me a hermitress. Where was the need for an endometriosis diagnosis? Why am I now defending myself against low blood sugar? Will I ever be worthy of having the right amount of oxygen in my bloodstream? Should my heart be labelled as failed when it was doing its best to help the lungs. Excuse me, sir... ma'am Life, what can I do to free myself from your maze? In this damp cave that you've placed me in, is there a crossroads where I can choose to go to the left or the right? I'll take full responsibility of the outcome, but the journey and the sights and sounds throughout it are yours ...