Dime Luna

Fotografía por Madelaine Bustamante

Dime Luna

Dímelo tú, Luna,

Tú que sabes de esas cosas...

Esas cosas que desquician,

Que turban, 

Que excomulgan,

Que descomponen,

Y transforman.

Dime Luna, tú que sabes 

Lo que esconde mi locura,

Si levante puentes,

Reconstruí esquinas,

Y embalsame con dulzura,

O si robe terrenos,

Derrumbe edificaciones,

E incendie campos...

Porque entre mi infierno y mi cielo

Ya no hay diferencia alguna.

 

La paseante

La paseante

Y ¿quién podría seguirte el paso, alma vagabunda?
Si no conoces destino alguno y eterna es tu penuria.
Y ¿quién querría seguirte el paso, alma errante?
Si deambulas entre las sombras,
escondiendo el aroma de la rosa.
¡Maldito ímpetu! Que desgarra y desmorona.
Maldita yo, que nací contigo de corona.

(Madelaine Bustamante)

-

The flaneuse

And who could follow your steps, wandering soul?
If you know no destiny and your scarcity is eternal.
And who would want to follow your steps, roaming soul?
If you wander among the shadows,
Hiding the aroma of the rose.
Damn force! That rips apart and cracks down.
Damn me, who was born with you as a crown.

Querida Alma, el vacío.

[2 de Julio del 2020]

Querida alma,

Nuevamente en la búsqueda, esta eterna búsqueda del tesoro. ¿El Santo Grial? La piedra filosofal, todos los secretos del mundo, todo sus secretos y tal vez nada, porque al final no se sabe si hay misterio que valga el tiempo de toda una vida, aun siquiera unos instantes de pensar aquello sin pestañear.

“¿Estás perdida?” Me pregunta la sombra detrás del árbol de olivo y titirito ante el agudísimo tono de su voz. “¿Me habla a mí?” Me pregunto apartando la vista y cuando la levanto de nuevo un ojo amarillo con una iris negra, un ojo que amenazaba con hacerme desaparecer, un ojo que me hacía retroceder; pero, con una voz que me buscaba, aparentemente. “Sí, tú”, dijo mirandome directamente a los ojos y cuando intenté moverme no pude, mis articulaciones se rehusaban a obedecerme.

Miles de veces la misma escena, miles de veces el miedo, el asombro y la curiosidad, ¿hasta cuando un alma puede aguantar la incertidumbre? “Hasta la muerte”, pues no porque si el alma trasciende, vuelve a otro cuerpo y sigue su camino ¿dónde queda la muerte? No la del cuerpo, la del alma ¿Nos son dadas las respuestas en algún estadío? Siempre la misma historia, “La misma historia triste y sin final, el mismo cuento de nunca acabar” dice la canción pero ¿Acaso no es así realmente? La vida, la realidad, el mundo; la vida, la realidad, el mundo; la vida, la realidad, el mundo. La muerte, la fantasía, el vacío.

Love Fountain

“Golden” by Kent Andreasen

 Love Fountain

 

I can not write love stories anymore. 

My inspiration fountain is frozen now. 

I put some fire nearby and it did not work at all. 

I tried singing songs and being by its side day and night. 

I have been thinking about it and trying for new insights,

So far nothing worked and made me just sad.

The other day I tried forgetting about it,

And just focusing on my self-love,

I could have written stories about myself,

Stories about my self-growth

And, suddenly, I felt a drop on my cheek

A colorful drop of inspiration from my water source.

Maybe that’s all I needed and need,

To try first with me.

Madelaine Bustamante (October 4th 2020. 10:33PM)

De las separaciones y sus absurdos

Fotografía por Madelaine Bustamante

Creo que las rupturas amorosas son tan irresponsables, debería haber alguna ley que ampare a las personas afectadas, como sucede con los divorcios, o sea ¿Quién paga por los daños colaterales?

Y más allá de eso, cuando entras en una relación amorosa, se supone que es de mutuo acuerdo, ambas personas se comprometen para poder estar juntas; en cambio, las separaciones no parecen necesitar del acuerdo mutuo, son abusivas. Sin embargo, si se trata de mantener contacto con la persona que decidió sobre la ruptura, la otra persona puede demandar por acoso.

¿Y qué demanda se hace por abandono? O sea, legalmente hablando, monetariamente hablando, psicológicamente hablando ¿quién corre con los gastos de esos daños? Es un proceso realmente bárbaro. ¿Cómo es legal siquiera? 

¿Qué quiere decir eso de “El amor se acabó”? ¿Cómo funciona todo esto? ¿Por qué nadie se tiene que hacer responsable por todas esas promesas dichas dentro de la relación? ¿Cómo es que todo esto está tan normalizado hoy en día? ¿Por qué la palabra pesa tan poco en la corte aun cuando sigue pesando tanto en las personas?

Tal vez soy yo esperando demasiado de nuevo, de un mundo que, mayormente, se demuestra sin sentido. Esperando demasiado de una sociedad que se muestra, no solo absurda sino también, insensible. 

Dejando de lado las típicas frasecillas de autoestima, superación personal, valor propio, positivismo y demás, ¿Cómo se pretende que una separación sea procesada a nivel mental cuando no tiene lógica alguna? Es tan molesto.

Perfection’s Illusion (2017)

Photography by Madelaine Bustamante

Smile! Shoot! Done! We live in an Instant World, everything, absolutely everything seems to be recorded and saved; although, not the sincerest era indeed. To this world, where nothing seems to be really solid, Bauman will call “Liquid Modern World” and I couldn’t agree more with his concept about its liquidity. All has to be done at the very moment, but as soon as the picture is taken it’s not needed anymore, and the “perfection” encircled in that image disappears as soon as it came.

And people seem to be aware of this phenomenon, but keep on engaging in these acts where you display a fake image, an image of a perfect life, a perfect body, a perfect food, and so on; there is no space for imperfection anymore and the standards’ people have to keep on hitting unreachable levels. It seems there’s no more room for real acceptance because acceptance itself is being, somehow, sold out in this big market social media has to turn our lives into.

When the relation of a person with his body is already as problematic as it can be due to the changes it keeps on going through, new trends are making it only more and more unbearable, and mental illnesses related to self-image are at the top of the scale thanks to it. Though among the benefits we can tell that people are getting “more” connected to some extension, whether you’re in Paris or Quito, whether you are on earth or water, you can always reach someone out due to internet and all its facilities... but even relationships are being damaged and affected.

Should a big STOP be put? Should parents keep their children away from all these novelties? Is there anything that can be done? Other than informing people, not really. Ignorance is still the biggest enemy, even when the information is right there just to be taken. It’s all about explaining to people the difference between fantasy and reality, about their worth despite everything, and the good management of the media that could help us more instead of harming us if we allow it.

“We worship perfection because we can’t have it; if we had it, we would reject it. Perfection is inhuman, because humanity is imperfect.”

― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet.

by Madelaine Bustamante.

[October 2017]

References:
Bauman, Z. (2007). Liquid Times: Living in an Age of Uncertainty. Cambridge: Polity Press.
Pessoa, F. (2002). The Book of Disquiet. London: Penguin Books.

Mi hada sanadora

 

Este es uno de los cuadros que tiene mi psicoanalista lacaniana en Ecuador. “El Loco” de Pablo Picasso y a mí me encanta.

Este, junto a un montón de libros de arte, psicoanálisis, filosofía, entre otros temas, adornan su consultorio, y ella, generadora de paz y orden, que es obviamente la mejor parte.

Curiosamente conocí a mi psicoanalista en Octubre del 2014 en un Congreso de Psicoanálisis fuera del país, y quedé encantada con su charla sobre el Psicoanálisis y la Literatura, que es cuando supe de la existencia de Alejandra Pizarnik y me conecté con unos de sus poemas. Pero, apenas contacte a mi actual psicoanalista en Junio del 2015, y mi primera sesión con ella fue un día después de mi cumpleaños. 

Estuve en análisis con ella, ininterrumpidamente, hasta Marzo del 2016, que es cuando empece con mis viajes por aquí y por allá, tras graduarme, regrese un par de meses y luego en Febrero del 2017 estuve partiendo nuevamente. Pero esta vez, con su venia para tener una nueva psicoanalista en el país en el que estudiaría, este permiso era importante para mí, pero aun con este permiso, y aun estando en análisis con otra analista por más de un año, para mí Mayra era, fue y será mi única analista de verdad.

En todo caso, me costó mucho “compartirme” con mi nueva psicoanalista y “perdornarme” semejante traición. Sin embargo, tanto en mi visita a Ecuador a finales del 2017 y a finales del 2018, tuve sesiones con ella y en el 2019, reanudamos el tratamiento seguido en línea. Es toda una historia. 

Puede que, para algunos, suene exagerado... pero le debo tanto. Y le debo cosas impagables cuantitativamente, no puedo terminar de agradecerle por abrirme paso entre tanta espesura, por calmarme, por enseñarme, por aguantarme. Y es que yo siento que esa hora con ella siempre ha sido algo sagrado, una conexión con lo divino, y una reconexión y reconocimiento de mi verdadero ser. Las veces que me caí y lloré no son nada frente a las veces que me maraville ante la ironía y la obviedad de realidades internas y externas que Mayra me ayudó a entender.

Espero que todos quienes estén en el camino del auto-descubrimiento que involucra el psicoanálisis puedan encontrar una hada mágica y sanadora como la mía, que fue desde el primer día: luz y bendición para mí.

Muchas gracias, queridísima Mayra. Es usted una inspiración para crecer. La quiero muchísimo.

Un lugar feliz

 

Estas son fotos felices. De un lugar feliz, para mí.

Son fotos de mis dos visitas a París, una en Abril del 2016 con mi hermano Richard, y otra de Abril del 2018 con mi hermano Jorge. 

A mí me gusta viajar, aunque no lo haga tan a menudo como me gustaría. Usualmente estoy muy ocupada estudiando, trabajando o ambas como para planear un viaje, tomarme el tiempo que conlleva y costear los gastos, pero cuando logro que todo se armonice soy muy feliz. Más allá de mis una y mil quejas en cada viaje, mis hermanos son fieles testigos, al final del día me siento agradecida y bendecida.

No creo haber visitado muchos lugares todavía, pero creo haber visitado suficientes ciudades cómo para decidir que tengo una favorita, y esa es París. Probablemente tenga mucho que ver con mi idea de Francia, con mi amor por el francés, con los miles de dulces, con el clima nostálgico, con la gente que se siente... más que “lejana”, privada. Pero, sobretodo, con cómo me siento yo ahí, ese aire de libertad que me conmueve y me calma. Tal vez tenga que ver con que no entiendo nada, o que todo es tan pequeño que me asombra, o que todo es tan diferente a lo que conozco que me encanta.

En todo caso, en momentos como este, donde me siento abrumada por la vida y ansiosa ante la incertidumbre del mañana, siempre puedo volver a París. Puedo recorrer los “Champs-Élysées” y comerme un “macaron” mientras Richard y Jorge me dicen que tienen frío y nos alistamos para una foto.

Y así puedo, una vez más, enfrentarme al mundo. Recordarle al mundo que soy pequeña pero no incapaz, que soy débil pero no cobarde, que soy humana sin dejar de ser divina.

Little joys.

I don’t really remember this day some years ago... I don’t remember anything much about it, but I do remember this moment. We, my cousins and I, just playing around with this “piece of light.”

Sometimes I have to remind me that there is light because I indulge too easily to darkness; but my smile is always showing itself in the corners of my own self, reminding me that I am just over-thinking and over-worrying about everything, as usual, and life still has way too many “treasure chests” to offer me, I am just starting.

I invite everybody to turn on their lights, whatever this is: reading your sacred book, connecting with your divinity, dancing under the moonlight, drawing and scribbling, baking cookies, running in the forest, singing out loud, etc, whatever it takes to bring the light from outside, back inside you. Let’s commemorate this day doing that special something a bit more than usual. Let’s enjoy it.

[Madelaine Bustamante. May 22, 2020]

Tu muñequita

Papi... ¿Recuerdas el día en que nací?

Cuando anunciaste un niño 

Y la vida te dio una niña,

Cuando dejaste tus carritos 

Y me diste mis lacitos,

Cuando dejaste de lado peleitas

Y abrazaste a tu muñequita.

Papi... ¿Recuerdas la primera vez que me caí?

Cuando lloré y lloré

Y me pusiste una curita,

Cuando grite y grite

Y me cantaste la ranita,

Cuando te mostré donde dolía,

Y lo sanaste con “muchitas”.

Papi... ¿Recuerdas cuando fui a la escuela?

Cuando me llevabas de la mano

Y yo contenta con mi “loncherita”,

Cuando agarre mis cuadernos,

Y los pusiste en mi mochilita,

Cuando mi mamita hizo mis cachitos,

Y tú dijiste “Qué bonita”.

Papi... ¿Recuerdas mi primer regalo?

Cuando te di esa corbata con escarchita

Esa que guardabas en tu oficina,

Mis primeras notas y dibujos

Donde te escribía cuanto te quería,

Mis besos y abrazos cuando te veía

Porque siempre me veías y sonreías.

Papi... ¿Recuerdas cuando empece a crecer?

Cuando me dijiste que podía

Y soltaste mi manito,

Cuando me mostraste la vía,

Y me dijiste “yo te cubro”,

Cuando me miraste lleno de valentía,

Y me dejaste volar aun entre lágrimas.

Papi, yo recuerdo todo...

Ese todo que representas tú 

Y que me da alegría,

Ese todo que aprendí de ti 

Y de tu paciencia infinita,

Ese todo que llevo dentro de mí 

Y por el que siempre seré tu muñequita.

The Grasp of My Soul

Photography took and edited by and from Madelaine Bustamante.

‪“I believe you deserve to die,” Claudia said drunk with anger.‬

‪“It’s okay,” Natasha answered. “It doesn’t really matter.” She said unaffected. “In the end... don’t we all die? What’s the big deal over a couple of days more? What an absurdity.” And sighed.‬

‪— The Grasp of my Soul‬.

The fog

Mom, was I broken when I was born? 

His eyes refuse to see mine, 

And fate conspires against us. 

Mom, did I break him? 

He told me he was already broken when we met, 

I was too busy protecting myself,

I didn’t even know I could hurt him, 

You forgot to mention others have feelings.

Dad, why can’t I call him?

Why am I being ostracized by him like this?

Where is the forever I was promised?

Why wouldn’t he discuss this with me?

I thought we should talk about our difficulties.

Dad, you and he always talking about diplomacy

As if I am too quiet and need to share my fears,

But now there’s only silence and everything seems unclear.

Mom, where is that secret unguent you told me

That one should apply and would heal him? 

The magic balm that treats deep injuries 

And brings peace and happiness.

Mom, was that I lie for me to stop crying?

I am not a child anymore, you can tell me.

Dad, please come and talk to him,

Maybe if you do it, he might listen.

Dad, why can’t his eyes be opened?

Is it true that he die when I wasn’t seeing?

Or was it me? Was it me the cold body

Left alone to perish in the forest?

Mom, please come and talk to him,

Tell him that we should not fight for this,

Better to hold hands and sign for peace,

Didn’t you say you like him?

Dad, tell me can’t he listen to me?

Did the evil witch block his way to me?

Or did the good one come to rescue him?

Maybe it is me... maybe I can not listen.

Mom, if he is a “poor man”

Am I a pitiful woman?

Dad, dad look at me,

Dad, dad can you see me?

Mom, am I still here or did I leave with him?

Mom, if I speak louder can you hear me?

Dad, whether I died or became invisible...

The fog of the night confuses me.

I couldn’t

 But how could I ever make you understand?

I couldn’t give you the flowers

without you feeling the thorns;

I couldn’t give you the love

without pieces of hate;

I couldn’t give you the health

without some moments of illness;

I couldn’t give you the best of me

without giving you the worst.

I am a coin and both faces count.

Even if I were to hold your hand,

and explain you with tender words,

the reality of my nature and yours,

the shock of my feelings and yours,

the illogic of this life, 

the reasoning and this losing battle.

[Incomplete, maybe]

Isabella

Isabella...

Isabella, please don’t grow up too fast.

Don’t go to the Toddlers class. 

Don’t turn two years old. 

Don’t run yet, you just learned to walk.

Isabella, please don’t grow up too fast.

Don’t stop being picky with your food.

Don’t stop taking long naps.

Don’t stop following Jaleh around. 

Don’t stop coming to me

When I open up my arms. 

Don’t stop smiling at me

When you see me around. 

Don’t stop putting your arms up

When you see me passing by.

Isabella, please don’t grow up too fast.

Let me sit down to play with you one more time,

Let me sing to you this new song I memorized,

Let me tell you that I love you and smile.

Isabella, please just grow up whenever you want.

Don’t listen to my childish fears,

Don’t worry about how I may feel,

Don’t think about your teacher getting sad.

Isabella, please be happy as you grow up.

Seek refugee in your father’s arms,

Ask for help if you are down,

And remember the light even during dark times.

With love, 

For my sweet and little Isabella.

By Madelaine Bustamante

Short Story of a New Beginning

“My Lady, the princess is not in her bedroom,” said the maid unsettled.

“What do you mean?” I asked, for some reason I couldn’t understand a word of what she said.

“She left this.” She said and handed me a note. My sweet child wrote a few words, even with her scarce vocabulary and her clumsy handwriting.

“Mom, I went to the other side of the mountain. I want to find the flying horses”.

A tear rolled down my cheek, I sat down immediately and just thought:

“The hero journey.” The time flies indeed, it seems it was yesterday I first met her eyes.

Haunting

“Sometimes, I am scared of my own memory... My memory and all those sharp razors ready to haunt me the very second I make my mind up to forget; as an evil ghost refusing to leave the spot that made him feel at home, a ghost that I don’t seem to be able to escape from.” She said to me and I understood it was that time of the year. 

I got our clothes ready and looked at her, I always wondered why she used to do this memorial service, I read about it and it is a ritual practiced in Korea and other countries honoring ancestors, but it doesn’t seem to me this has to do with a dead relative, then what was this? I could never figure her out completely, there was always a missing piece to the puzzle. She got ready and told me to go with her. I always follow her silently, I know how annoyed she gets with noise, she says it over and over again in her books and poems: “Silence”, she claims to want silence; I wonder whether she wants it or she was left without options and ended up embracing it way too hard, and that’s why now she was so quiet. 

We started walking stairs up and I am not going to lie, it surprises me how such an old lady can move around so graciously as if life wasn’t as heavy as it claims to be at that age. 

“Should I wait here?” I said before reaching the door.

“Yes, please.” She said. I have been working with her for five years already and I still wonder whether we are friends or not, she can be extremely secretive about some matters, and incredibly open about others. The only thing she ever told me about this annual ritual was “I haven’t really learned to speak the language of those who are gone, but I have learned to listen to their requests”, and all I thought was “How can you listen to their request if you don’t understand what they are saying?”.

I sat down in the stairs and I could listen to her crying. It was always the same, the ghost she couldn’t run away from would still make her cry and she didn’t seem to want to be comforted. I wonder if she is paying some kind of penance. Maybe that religious practice of hers has more in it than what I have learned so far... Maybe I haven’t learned the real essence of it yet and maybe that’s why I don’t understand her.

Broken bridge

Photography taken by Madelaine Bustamante
[Added on August 8, 2020]

Heart, oh heart! Stop this nonsense

Tell me! Where did you lose it?

Let’s track back, maybe we’d find it.

Voices stay quiet I can not see me!

See? I mean, I can’t listen to me…

But do I really mean “to listen”?

You can not listen nor see

In this broken bridge of my soul,

Always taking me nowhere.

— Madelaine Bustamante

Like home

     He laid down next and told me:

- “Do you know, Lorelei? I, often, fantasize about you” And I giggled.

- “Still?” I said playfully, pretending to be unaffected. I knew he used to think a lot about me when we weren’t married, he would expose himself whenever we would have a discussion or whenever he was in a really good mood, as he was about to do at that moment.

- “Yes. When I am at work, I think of you... Especially when it is almost over. I think of what you are doing at home, because in my head you are always at home when I come back. You are taking a nap, you fell asleep reading a book in the living room, you are preparing dinner, you are putting your jacket in the hanger because you arrived a few minutes before me, you are laughing because you were thinking of something funny, you are on the phone with your mom and smiling at me. I like to think about you for many reasons, but when it comes to you and this house, you are the one making it feel like home, therefore when I think of you I feel rested already.” He said and I tried not to laugh, not because it was funny but because I didn’t know what to do with my emotions, with my excitement, with my love and I had to discharge it and I didn’t know anything better than laughing, even if I didn’t laugh and put all of myself on that. “What is that funny?” He asked. 

     And I was already worried about him getting mad, sometimes I just used to miss that he wouldn’t be able to see my face when he tells me something like that because through messages I can always act all collected.

- “Nothing,” I said ashamed of my own behavior. I didn’t really know what was expected from me in such moments, even if I knew, I am not the kind of person that can keep up to no one’s expectations; that’s why I like better people that aren’t interested in me, initially. “And what about those times when you arrive and I am not here yet?” I asked. Yes, that was me ruining the moment because I have a gift for that.

- “I never think of that. I get a bit grumpy if I get here and you haven’t arrived yet.” He confessed.

- “I like to wait for you,” I tried to open up too and turned to my right to see his face, his eyes were fixed on the roof.

- “I know. You say you are a cat, but sometimes you act a lot like a dog instead; and I know you don’t like the comparison but I like dogs, they are warm and kind animals.” He told me and I smiled and hugged him.

Mi alma confusa

Y ¿qué sabía mi alma? 

¿Qué sabía mi alma de culpas y penitencias,

de deseos y desobediencia? 

Me preguntaba con frecuencia,

mientras escarbaba mis asperezas, 

mientras buscaba entender mi propia incongruencia.

Tantos colores dentro de mí,

arrastrándome a la demencia;

tantas opiniones dentro de mí,

forcejeando y creando esta ambivalencia;

tantas penas dentro de mí,

rasgándome con furia.

¡Oh, alma! ¡Ten piedad de mí!

Comportate con mesura,

¿Dónde está la pureza?

¿Dónde la hermosura?

¿Dónde la inocencia? Entre tanta espesura.

Y el conocimiento...

haciéndose espacio en cada esquina de mi armadura,

y mi corazón adolorido, 

sangrando,

llorando,

no listo para la realidad que es tan cruda.

¡Oh, Señor Mío! ¡Guíame a Tu Dulzura!

¡Oh, Dios Mío! Perdona mis atrevimientos y rebeldía,

¡Oh, Creador Mío! Muéstrame con Tu Luz 

El camino hacia la paz de mi alma con Tu Cordura.

Madelaine Bustamante

[31 de Marzo del 2019]

Talking to the Moon

Photography by Madelaine Bustamante

Photography by Madelaine Bustamante

[Photography taken on Tuesday, April 7th 2020, 11:06PM]

I will tell you all something, whether you believe me or not, and whether I believe it myself… or not.

I met with the moon two weeks ago and we had a talk, do you understand? A talk, one to one, she and I. And I’d lie if I say it was our first talk, but it was the first time we got so close. She has been patient and kind to me, despite of all my hindrances and blockage, those of you who know me would remind and give faith of how slow I am in everything I do, and how fearful I am at all times; this weak nerves of mine, always playing tricks on me.

She embraced me, listened to me calmly and I would even dare to say that she was happy, happy to meet with me. And she gave me light signals, smoke signals, heart signals, she told me clearly and loudly that she was listening and I told her quietly and flickering that I didn’t know very well what I was doing and I told her over and over again that I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but then again… I was able to say that just because I could see she was answering.

Still there I was, shivering and terrified in my long pink dress at night, talking to the moon and begging her for some light, looking at her and thanking her for showering me with her beauty. There, with my pink note and my white flare, and there she was… with her immensity receiving me with open arms.

It is a long path, I will stumble so many times, even if I thought I had fallen way too many by now.

Thank you, Luna. Thanks for grabbing my timid hand with such delicacy and for looking at me with such tenderness, allowing to take my time before my next step forward.

And you all, did you talk to the moon tonight? Or were the flowers and the birds more appealing than the moonlight?

Lina and Banshee

“I got this for you.” The taller girl said, handing her a little doll. It was a lovely piece of art, it was very small, just a bit bigger than the arm of a child, it had been made with porcelain and the jade-green dress made stand out her blushed cheeks.

“Thank you.” The small girl one answered, trying to draw a shy smile on her face while caressing the cheeks of the little doll in her hands.

“Do you like it?” She asked looking into her eyes as if searching for answers beyond the one she was asking.

“I do. Thanks, Sasha.” The small girl replied avoiding her sight and fixing her eyes on the doll, looking at the doll in the eyes as if answering her instead of the woman in front of her.

“Have you been crying again, Lina?” Sasha asked her, saddened.

“No.” Lina replied softly.

“Why are your eyes so red then?” Sasha tried to understand. But how do you understand the waves of a soul that refuses to let you swim in its waters?

“Because I have been having a hard time sleeping lately,” Lina answered and brought the doll to her chest as if trying to hug her.

“Why?” Sasha asked, wondering if there was anything she could do to help.

“The night is gifting me its depths, it’s been hard for me to refuse it,” Lina said, playing with the doll, moving her hair and caressing it.

“That’s a nice way to put it,” Sasha told her sitting down next to her on the floor and placing her head on her shoulder as if giving up on her interrogation about her sleep.

“Where is Leif?” Lina asked, holding tightly the doll with both hands.

“He had to finish a few more orders and is going to be late. He said you shouldn’t wait for him awake.” Sasha let her know.

“The store is doing well lately,” Lina said while moving the doll back and forth.

“Yes. Leif had been an angel, I couldn’t have been able to keep up without him. My brother is coming back tonight or tomorrow and things will go back “to normal,” but thanks to Leif it seems that nothing had been different even without him.” Sasha replied thankfully.

“I am happy to know things are going well, I miss your brother’s cupcakes,” Lina said, moving the doll no more. Sasha laughed.

“You are gluttonous. Leif’s cupcakes are good too. Would you like me to bring some tomorrow?” Sasha asked.

“I know. Sure.” Lina answered and stood up. She said she was going to work on something in her bedroom and Sasha said she will get the dinner ready in the meantime.

Once in her bedroom Lina looked at her doll for a long while, she looked at her directly in the eyes again.

“What’s your name?” She asked playfully. “I am Lina.” She told her as if expecting an answer, but the doll remained mute.

Lina went to get her school bag, took out a light-blue marker and drew some tears in the doll’s cheeks.

“I will call you Banshee,” Lina said and smiled for real and openly now.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to cry for real, I already did it for you. Your job is done.” Lina told her while hugging her and started crying.

The doorbell rang and Lina looked at her door immediately. She didn’t move. She and her doll stared at the door and stayed in silence, a silence that seemed to consume the whole bedroom, it seemed to consume the tears, it seemed to consume the feelings, a silence that consumed Lina and Banshee, pushing them to disappear there, at that moment, that will be repeat over and over again until someone is able to open the white door.

Michael Jackson’s Little Susie beat cover.

The open secret

“Why haven’t you told us much about him?” Said my pencil, looking at the paper and the pen next to it.

“All you guys do is taking things out of control,” I replied.

“What do you mean? Are you saying that we bother you? Excuse me, young lady, we are always the ones helping you out.” Said my pen, indignant.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” I said, apologetic.
“What did you mean then, my child?” Said my calm and warm paper.

“If I start writing about it... I believe it will overflow, I won’t be available to contain it. It will be too real, which implies it being too intense as that’s the only way things can be when it comes to the person I am” I answered, ashamed now.

“But you talk to him, and it doesn’t seem to be a secret. In any case, you are not the best at “hiding it.”” My pen insisted and I laughed at her lack of delicacy. I knew she was just curious about the details of my feelings, like an old gossiper; it didn’t really bother me though, I was used to her ways.

“Maybe. But writing about it won’t do things any easier for me.” I replied.
“Easy how? What do you mean?” She asked, not able to control her curiosity.

“No wonder why she doesn’t tell us about him.” My pencil replied and I laughed even harder, weren’t they the whole show? I just had to add the music and bring some clowns and ballon, the sitcom was on. But my pen couldn’t care less about such comment apparently because she didn’t even look back at him and stared at me intensely waiting for an answer.

“Oh good Lord! Seriously? I just said I didn’t want to talk about it.” I continue, noticing that I was already doing it and she wouldn’t let this go anymore.

“Well, you’re already doing it, honey. Also, you sure want to talk about him, don’t you? Come on, we are your friends, we know you. Let it out, girl.” She encouraged me.

“What do you want to know?” I asked, hoping that I will cut it short like this.

“How is him?” She asked, smiling and getting all excited.
“Physically or..?” I couldn’t finish my question because she replied first.

“In all ways possible. Describe him.” She said sitting down right in front of me.

“He is... the flowers, the steadiness and the thunder and the lightning bolt of a slightly rainy day,” I answered embarrassed while thinking whether I was saying enough to explain his vastness or not. Of course, it didn’t matter whatever I would say, nothing would seem enough to me.

“Why a slightly rainy day?” My pencil asked and my pen nodded.

“Because I don’t believe we are sunny days.” I tried to explain.

“You both could always make a rainbow happen then!” My pen said, excited and I smiled.

“That’s enough of meddling in her private life.” My paper said.

“As if she had a private life.” My pen answered and I found it hilarious, I agreed with her, I just couldn’t process how she was able to be so rude.

“I guess she will tell us about him whenever she is ready. After all, she did at the beginning.” My paper said and I opened my eyes widely because I thought they didn’t remember and that was why they were asking. My pen jumped on him.

“How dare you to remind her! How are you expecting us to get more information like this!?” My pen said, worried.

“Have I fallen in a trap of my own writing tools?” I said, with a dramatic tone, pretending to be affected.

“We didn’t mean to do anything bad...” My pencil replied and I got moved because of his innocence.

“I know. I am not saying talking about him is anything bad. He is precious in every way possible.” I confessed to them.

“Are you just afraid to lose him too then? Is that what you mean?” My pen asked and I got a bit surprised. My paper, my pencil, my eraser, my books and everything in my room looked at her in distress. “What!?” She said, annoyed.

“I think it is time for me to go to bed,” I said, smiling and left the room. 
Maybe if I don’t say much, maybe if I save my words, maybe if I keep my open secret, maybe if I hide my feelings, maybe if I town down my heart, maybe... just maybe, he won’t be taken away from me.

Ace of Wands

“Oh, you people won’t believe this! I found this magic wand with a portal in it! Just trying to figure out:

a) How to enter.

b) Where will it take me.

c) If I really want to go.

Who else wants to go for an adventure?”

Corenne said to the camera and Dorothea just looked at her confused. 

“What are you doing, Cori?” Dorothea asked while walking towards her.

“I am recording a short video for my new account. I am planning on recording this whole journey so that people who’re interested and just beginning will see how it works.” Corenne replied smiling.

“Because you are not just a beginner yourself, right? You are an expert in the field.” Dorothea said irritated.

“No, but I know the difference between a magic wand with a portal and one without it, which is more than most of the people out there know.” Corenne answered in a defensive tone.

“Right.” Dorothea affirmed with skepticism. “Do you ever stop to think how weird is everything you do?” 

“All the time.” Corenne answered a bit sad now.

“Doesn’t that stop you at all?” Dorothea asked, curious.

“Do you know? After all these years together I like to think of you as my best friend, but in moments like this is when I wonder if the levels of toxicity of our friendship are balanced enough for this to be healthy.” Corenne answered sadly and Dorothea noticed she crossed the line.

“I am just scared and in a bit of a bad mood, don’t mind me. I didn’t mean to be rude, everything is just so weird. I can’t believe we’re doing this, but best friends stick together in good and bad times! Also, being best friends isn’t a guarantee for us both to agree in everything.” Dorothea said, trying to soften the mood of the conversation. Corenne sighed and smiled while starting to shake her shoulders and arms.

“Relax and sing with me:

“Hello, hello.

Let me tell you what it's like to be a zero, zero

Let me show you what it's like to always feel, feel

Like I'm empty and there's nothing really real, real

I'm looking for a way out.””

They both started laughing. 

“I will take that as you doing things out of boredom only,” Dorothea said while playing with her rings.

“But I am always bored, Thea.” Corenne replied, moving her head slightly to the left.

“Yes, this is why you are always doing weird stuff,” Dorothea said and moved her head slightly to the right and both laughed.

“Weird is fun,” Corenne said.

“It is,” Dorothea confirmed and left the rock where they were sitting down to lay down on the grass around the big tree. Corenne stood up too and grabbed one of her sticks again.

“I have a wand, I warn you, I am unstoppable! The Astros decided for me, a long time ago. I ought to follow my destiny. Oh, goodness me, it’s already happening!” Corenne said and her magic wand seemed to start shining and moving around by its own free will.

“Oh, stop it. You know I won’t fall for that.” Dorothea said looking at her in a motherly manner.

“Anyway, enough leisure time. We have to go on with our mission now. Come on.” Corenne said, offering her hand for Dorothea to stand up. Dorothea held her hand and stood up. Corenne walked towards a small tree next to them and took some crystals out of it.

“Why... do you... wait, what? What is... why?” Dorothea said confused and shocked.

“Don’t ask, we have no time for minor things right now, there’s something bigger waiting for us! Let’s go! But first, just let me check that I got all the needed tools.” Corenne said while putting her hands in her pockets as if looking for a small coin.

“Tools? Something bigger waiting for you, you mean... I am not going any further.” Dorothea said cleaning the dirt from her skirt and started walking to the opposite side of Corenne.

“What about that speech about friends sticking together? Huh?” Corenne reminded her. Dorothea looked at her regretting her words already.

“Seriously Corenne!” Dorothea said coming back to Corenne.

“Do not worry. These spirits’ crystals will guide us through the dark night. Like if the moon itself came down to illuminate our path of self-discovery.” Corenne said breathing in dramatically and Dorothea just looked at her wondering what was going on.

Corenne searched for something inside her jacket and took out a bunch of acorns.

“What is that now? Where are all those coming from? Do you also have a magic source or what!? First, the crystals coming from the tree, now acorns coming out of your pockets.” Dorothea said, opening her eyes widely.

“Well, it’s not exactly magic, but I do store a bunch of things that I thought might be useful at any point in my life, and now is the moment for these. I read these intensify the peace around the site. It is called “silent bells of peace.” They also help us to don’t awaken or call the attention of unwanted spirits, so it’s some kind of protection as well.” Corenne said.

“You. Make. No. Sense. Are you conscious of that?” Dorothea said, starting to get mad.

“Well, at least I am trying to make it happen instead of complaining the whole time while doing absolutely nothing,” Corenne said with an attitude now.

“But like... you know those are simple acorns...” Dorothea insisted, wondering if Corenne was, actually, considering what she was doing and saying.

“Oh, right! That was the name of these in the “humans’ land.”” Corenne said, nodding.

“Okay, I am starting to get worried about your mental stability, seriously? How did we get here? I mean, just yesterday you were telling me how scary all this seems and now here we are with all this stuff! Are we going to fly next?” Dorothea yelled annoyed and worried.

“You never know what’s next in this path of uncertainty.” Corenne replied calmly.

“Okay then, let me speak your language. Where did you get this non-human information from? How do we know it is trustworthy?” Dorothea trying to make sense out of things.

“I can’t tell you all my sources, sweetheart.” Corenne replied playfully. Dorothea wondered if Corenne was talking about something real for once, or if this was another made-up story; in any case, she gave up and decided to believe in her.

“By the way, why didn’t you bring Brook here? Aren’t cats like mystic beings and so? Especially black cats, no?” Dorothea said.

“Insanity! Profanity! I couldn’t bring my precious baby to such an unsafe expedition!” Corenne screamed while pointing her out with her index finger.

“But you could bring me and yourself, an interesting order of priorities,” Dorothea replied, blinking nervously.

“Not the same,” Corenne replied giggling and sat down on the floor crossing legs and arms, and closing her eyes.

“What now?” Dorothea inquired, frowning.

“Silence, creature. I am meditating and doing a fast scan of all that I need tonight to go to the enchanted forest.” Corenne said, opening one eye to see Dorothea’s expression Dorothea put her arms in the air while opening her mouth, and her eyes were astounded.

“We are not going there.” Dorothea said moving her head, refusing.

“Yes, we are. You didn’t think I was going to do this at home with my noisy family, or in your home with your nosey family? Duh!” 

“Hey! Fair enough, though,” Dorothea said, sighed, and laughed. “Now what?” Dorothea asked and sat down on a rock nearby.

“We have to wait for the night to come, I don’t believe the sunlight will be beneficial for our plans,” Corenne answered, convinced, and sat down next to her.

“Beneficial? Our?” Dorothea said with a sarcastic tone.

“You’re still here, right? So yes, our plans.” Corenne confirmed and smiled brightly.

“Why am I here?” Dorothea asked seriously while, what seemed to be, looking at the space.

“Now, that’s a good question finally. Why are you here?” Corenne replied, crossed her legs, and directed her right hand to her chin while looking directly at Dorothea. Dorothea laughed.

“I am here because you are my best friend and I wouldn’t let you go all alone, especially considering how dangerous it can be. And because I know better what a scary cat you are.”

“Hey! I am the bravest one here.” Corenne answered while putting her arms in her waist suddenly.

Dorothea sighed deeply and sat down.

“Whatever. I accept my defeat and beg for the woods’ creatures to take me.” Dorothea said, throwing her arms to the wind dramatically. Corenne jumped on her and knocked her down with a hug. 

“Don’t let the fae take you, Thea!” Corenne said, nearly crying and Dorothea started laughing.

“Ouch! Silly-bee.” Dorothea hugged her back.

“Maybe we should go home… I didn’t come ready for losses today.” Corenne said Dorothea pushed her a little bit in order to sit down and Corenne moved.

“What else did you bring in your bottomless pockets for this abracadabra?” Dorothea asked.

“This.” She said, bringing out a tiny pine nut.

“What’s the magic function of this one?” Dorothea asked, taking it in her hands.

“This one is nothing but decoration only... isn’t it pretty? I found it on my way home the other day.” Corenne answered, getting a bit shy.

“What?” Dorothea asked.

“I thought that we would need a cute item here, like a good luck charm, but cute which makes it double good,” Corenne said, ashamed.

“I will end up dead,” Dorothea replied, apparently, losing her faith; but when she saw the despair in Corenne’s face she retracted herself. “I am just kidding, we will be fine. What do we do now?” Dorothea asked.

“We should wait until it gets dark, the sun should be gone in about fifteen minutes.” Corenne answered her.

“Did you bring any food?” 

“No…” Corenne told her apologetically.

“Luckily I have some snacks with me.” Dorothea told Corenne, they both smiled and Dorothea held Corenne’s hand. “What happened to you, warrior-witch? Where did all your excitement go? I guess you ran out of battery, after eating some chips you will be back on track.” Dorothea said, smiling from ear to ear now. Dorothea started taking out all her belongings to find the chips.

“What is that?” Corenne asked when she saw an orange card among the things Dorothea was taking out of her bag.

“Do you remember Sophia just started a new course? Well, I know it was about making cards or something like that, you know, her crafty things, but it is actually a reading cards class.” Dorothea replied surprised.

“Your sister!? Are we talking about the same Sophia!?” Corenne answered even more surprised than Dorothea.

“Yes! Don’t be so dramatic, she believes it is some kind of celestial matter, connecting with angels or so.” Dorothea answered with a funny face and shrugging.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Corenne said playfully.

“It doesn’t seem much like that to me, but she is convinced about it. Anyway, every day she gives me my card of the day, and gives it to me for me to “reflect on the celestial message” and for the angels to know my location and don’t get obstructed signals, she says I will have the angels’ protection like that.” Dorothea told her.

“How could you be worried about me taking you on a magical journey when your big sister got you soldiers following you all day long. Like, is there any space for privacy in your life anymore?” Corenne said, making fun of Dorothea and she just smiled.

“Whatever” Dorothea said, opened the chips bag, grabbed some and handed the bag to Corenne then.

“What card did you get today though?” Corenne asked.

“Ace of Wands.” Dorothea replied and held the card in front of Corenne’s face.

“And what does it mean when you get that one?” Corenne asked.

“Not sure… she just told me it has to do with new beginnings, energy and creation… But now that I think about it her words start making sense. Oh, wow! Yes! This reading was referring to us in this adventure!” Dorothea and both got the shivers.

“I am loving your sister today,” Corenne said and both laughed.

“Sophia is also into names lately, she said her name means “Wisdom” and I should be mindful of everything she says because she may be holding a special knowledge she, herself, is not aware of just yet. Sometimes I think she should stop getting so many plants, maybe spending her days talking to flowers is affecting her, but then she told me about my name and… I don’t know anymore.” Dorothea said.

“What does it mean?” Corenne asked, getting curious.

“It means “Gift of God,” can you imagine that?” Dorothea replied.

“I can. What about mine?” Corenne asked.

“How could I know?” Dorothea said and Corenne made a pout. “Actually I asked her about yours as well, she said it means “maiden,” and that’s probably why you are a “maiden in danger” and I am here saving you from yourself,” Dorothea said playfully and both laughed.

“It is starting to get dark, I guess we should start going to the heart of the forest,” Dorothea said standing up.

“We don’t have to go that far. I want to have access to the reflection of the moon, and the lake is very close.” Corenne said.

“Let’s go then,” Dorothea said and Corenne took the lead. 

They were paving her way into the woods and lighting up their steps with a small lantern Corenne had. They walked while holding hands, Corenne’s right hand on the back and Dorothea extending her left hand. 

The night was fresh, in fact, the sounds of the forest made the scene appear a bit fairy-tale-like, with the light of the moon over their hands and the uncountable trees all around them. Corenne and Dorothea were best friends for a while now and were used to sharing everything. When Dorothea decided she wanted to join the book club, Corenne did too; when Corenne said she wanted to start reading about esoterism, Dorothea joined her; one thing took to the other and that’s how they began this journey. Corenne said it was a self-discovery journey and as impacted as Dorothea appeared, Dorothea was aware, and Dorothea wanted to discover herself as well, maybe all Dorothea wasn’t aware of was the right timing, and how can anyone know what the right time for anything is? It was like love, you never really know when to expect it or plan it to happen at a certain time, it just happens, and before you even noticed, you are in love. When it comes to understanding themselves, our girls were just starting.

Corenne stopped dead before arriving at the lake, she turned around and started running without uttering a word. Dorothea got scared but didn’t ask anything and just ran with her, whatever Corenne saw in the lake wasn’t good. They ran the whole way back to the lane and Corenne didn’t stop until they arrived at the main street, with all those lights and cars’ noises. They were very agitated when they arrived and tried to recover themselves. 

“Oh my God! What happened? What did you see?” Dorothea asked, extremely scared.

“There... there was…” Corenne said and stopped to take some air in.

“What? There was what?” Dorothea insisted.

“A guy!” Corenne, finally, said, and Dorothea let herself fall to the floor.

“We came all the way running because you saw another human being!? Run when you see a scary-looking being floating, not when you see a guy!” She screamed annoyed.

“I think it was from our school actually...” Corenne continued.

“Who cares!? Guys don’t bite, Corenne!”

“I do...” She replied, exhausted, and tried to smile.

“Wait, was that..?” Dorothea replied, serious now.

“No, no. But still.” Corenne said, cleaning her glasses.

“I should kill you myself,” Dorothea said, putting her hands up to the level of Corenne’s neck and shaking them in the air as if pretending she was strangling her. “But, what was he doing there anyway? Isn’t it too late to be hiking right now?” Dorothea said, looking at Corenne suspiciously and smiling.

“Do you think he was there for the same reason as us? He was right next to the lake where the full moon reflects itself.” Corenne said and shrugged.

“We should have befriended him, or tried to! Not run away from him! By now we could be a group and we could have a proper master instead of being just two beginners about to die by their own hand, well, by the other’s hand in your case.”  Dorothea said, a bit annoyed.

“Was he cute though?” Dorothea asked, Corenne shrugged again, and Dorothea laughed. 

Their initiation wasn’t possible that night, the planets weren’t aligned to make that happen just yet; but, luckily for them, the moon would remain up there and the nights will continue coming.

They started walking back home, it was getting late and they didn’t have more choice other than to wait for their next ace of wands.

The Research of The Divine

“Jack wouldn’t have understood even if I were to explain him with apples and grapes all this,” I thought while running. “Nobody would.” 

“Great. Two roads. Where the heck am I supposed to go now?” I doubted, but I didn’t really have time for that, not if I wanted to survive. I picked the right path, did I really pick? I can’t tell anymore what are the things I choose on my own and what are those that had been given to me, those that had been chosen for me; and I can’t tell anymore whether the choosers are from divine origin, socially elected, or coming from the innermost of myself. Maybe, it is a composition of all that. Whatever, I am so done. 

“Wait!” I listened to his rough voice a few steps away from me. How come I wasn’t tired? I couldn’t look back. Not anymore.

“I just want to tell you something!” Frank screamed and I couldn’t have cared less about whatever he had to tell me. Didn’t he speak his mind enough? His time was over.

“You need one more ingredient!” He said and I couldn’t listen anymore because he, clearly, stopped following to take a breath, literally take a breathe and I ran as fast and as far as possible.

“I hate to be in a bad mood,” I said when I got to the cascade. It was nearly impossible to enjoy this expedition if I was troubled like this.

“Why don’t you calm down then?” I listened to a small voice saying and I got a bit startled. I thought I was alone, and that wasn’t Frank’s voice for sure. It was more like a child’s voice.

“Who is it? Where are you?” I asked looking around.

“Come closer to the shore.” The voice said and I was wondering if whether I was trapped in some kind of horror plot and this was my only chance to go away and save my life, or if this was the “missing ingredient” Frank mentioned. I wanted to find that one myself, that was among the thousand reasons I went away running and embark myself on this mission without anyone’s support. I guessed it was fifty-fifty then, I should do as the voice said.

I don’t believe I was or will ever be ready for what I saw in the water that afternoon. It was some kind of winged being, seemed like a delicate fish or whatever it was, extremely shiny, almost blocking the view by the intensity, as if the sun left the sky and came into the water, surprisingly enough you had to look at the water to see it as if some kind of magic was containing the rays. I didn’t know what was going on.

(to be continued...)

Nora was crying

Friday, 7:30am. 

I come in and Nora is not her usual self. She isn’t smiling as brightly as usual, and she seems much calmer. A calm child is nice, but Nora simply isn’t like that, and when I think of her a big smile comes to my face as I can see hers in my mind. Nora is joy. 

This week she has been on “Transition”, and she should be going to Toddlers. For a long while I tried to put aside the fact that she would have to move soon, the idea itself would bring tears to my eyes and to know that she won’t be in our classroom anymore made me really sad, but I preferred to avoid thinking about it. 

Interestingly enough, as egotistic as I am, I didn’t think of how it will be for her... Somehow I thought she will be happy to get new friends, I guess. But I am not sure about that thought being the right one anymore. 

This week she woke up crying and I had to hold her and soothe her for a long while, which isn’t the common considering she always recovers fastly. She would also start crying whenever she will see the director and looks at me and the co-teacher with despair in her eyes. Nora is no more than seventeen months and you can only imagine how unbearable it is to see that. 

On Wednesday I went to pick her up at the Toddlers room, I could hear her crying out loud and as much as I forced myself to hold it in, I couldn’t anymore. I went to the hallway and hugged her, reminding her everything is alright and the Toddlers’ classroom teacher said I could take her back as she already spent half-day there and she ought to come back to Infants classroom. I held her up and took her back, it felt like a piece of my soul being put back together. My baby. 

Yesterday she went to the Toddlers room crying and I know she is not being mistreated there, mind you that the classroom is right next to ours, and I can listen and see them from time to time; but I understand she must be confused and scared. She may be thinking she had done something wrong for us to do that, she keeps on looking back as if asking to be rescued, as if wondering why nobody is “saving her” and my heart cries out telling her how much I love her, I wish she knew... I wish she understood all this is for her own sake, and as good and as smart as she is now, she has to go to the next level and shine brighter.

At the end of the day, when leaving the school, I found her nearly crying again in the playground, she was just there pouting while the other kids were playing. I looked at her and she seemed to calm down a bit, I told her to play around and gave her a kiss, then I walked to the door and when I looked back she was crying and then again with those beautiful almond eyes of hers asking for help. I told her “I am leaving. Bye, Nora, bye” and waved my hands to her which is my usual way to greet her goodbye for the day, and she held on her tears, tried a smile at me and put her hands up to her lips and then out to me... there she was, throwing me kisses and saying “bye” while I was feeling I was letting her down one more time.

Friday, 8:45am. 

Nora seems distant, she is not running around as usual or laughing for the sake of laughing in the morning, she seems nervous, and from time to time, she checks the door apparently scared. I suffer with her, I know what’s happening.

I hug her and kiss her as usual, I get her close to me and say in her little ear “I love you, Nora” as usual, wishing for her heart to listen to mine; that was my own “love enchantment”, in absence of a peace spell. I smile to her and do my best to appear cheerful, trying to get her some ease and she seems to feel more trustful as the hours pass by. 

Friday, 10:30am. 

The director comes in saying she can take Nora to the Toddlers classroom now, and she will stay there for the whole day today. Nora cries and is taken away one more time. 

I want to explain her so much what is going on, I wish she can tell me what she feels and what to do. I feel helpless, and I think she feels hopeless; if her teachers aren’t taking her back, she may be thinking what can she do then? I wish for her to understand that we weren’t given any option regarding this decision and that’s how the center work. I don’t know if extending the Transition to two weeks would be of help, but certainly one hasn’t been enough, at least not for us her teachers, nor for her.

Friday, 3:30pm. 

It is my time to leave and I rush to go to Toddlers to say goodbye to Nora, I just want her to know I am right next door and I keep her in my mind, I want her to feel that she is not alone, I wish her to understand she will be fine, she is too little to have to deal with all that.

I ask for permission to the teacher to come in to say hi, she tells me they are about to take a nap but grants her permission the same, I thank her and enter. Nora is in the mat in front of the right corner of the room already, she is lying down but with open eyes, she seems so absent and far. I kiss her and tell her “goodnight, Nora”, she won’t even truly look at me, she barely moved her eyes and I feel so guilty. Have I shattered her soul? The school system has shattered mine. 

I leave the classroom quickly, apologize to the teachers and thank them. They must be thinking about my separation anxiety and hers, as I think about it as well. I can’t help but feel the pain that comes with having to let her grow up by herself. But please don’t get me wrong, I am proud of her achievements and I know she will overcome all this at the end, but here and now, it hurts.

Sunday, 9:23pm. 

I am thinking about tomorrow I will be going to work and Nora won’t be in our classroom anymore, she might be crying once more... but as wishful as it can be, I hope to walk towards the Infants classroom, and while passing by the Toddlers one, see her laughing one more time, I expect to see her smiling. After all, as I said earlier, Nora is joy. And sunlight. And love.

 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know dear, how much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away

Please don’t take my sunshine away...”

Mr. Scarab‘s Light Sources

Photography by Madelaine Bustamante

“I am ready to tell everybody’s stories! I exclaimed and he looked at me confused.‪

From then on I started walking and asking all around me for their piece of history, and I was amazed for the abundance.‬

“I am here to listen to your story,” I said to Mr. Scarab.

“My story is for whoever that wants to listen,” He replied and I drew a kind smile on his face in my mind.‬

“Sit down then, my child. We have a long way to revisit.” He said.

Oh, what a fine being he was! I miss him so very much.‬ How many good stories was I missing due to my fears and prejudices? Oh! How much I wished to go back in time and seek refugee in father’s arms. When did I stop listening? When did I stop telling? Why am I so scared? When did everything begin?

Now that I think of Mr. Scarab, I am grateful, one more time for sharing his wisdom with me, I still wonder whether I was or not a worthy recipient? He said he would share it with anyone willing to listen, but there was this mysterious aura around him that made me doubt.

He told me about mountains and people, about faraway places and places as close as my backyard, he told me about the mother of his child and his own mother, about his family and his enemies, he told me what he likes and how he encountered himself. I wonder how many people live a life as fulfilling as him... What a great master he was!

“Look there, my child.” He said looking at the sunset. 

“Every day the sun greets us, every day with a new message, a special one for each one of us, and what do we do? We are too busy with everything and nothing, what a pity! But the sun couldn’t care less about it, it is our loss, ours only.” He said with a resignation tone and sighed. 

“What about the moon? Is she meant to be dismissed for being a female?” I asked and got surprised for the impact my question did in myself, I blushed and felt apologetic immediately. Mr. Scarab let out a guffaw. 

“Sweet child, you missed the whole point if you weren’t able to see that the moon is our guide and comforter, in the gloomy nights and what seems to be the end of us, the moon is there, every night, giving us another thread of hope. Doesn’t she make us dream? But how distracted we are with useless things to thank her and let her bath us with her beauty!”

And I thought I got it, for a long time I was able to connect inside and outside.

How did I get here again then? There was something missing for sure... Whether I missed something or never had it. Am I walking through the tightrope of my life one more time? Will I ever walk with my feet firmly on the ground? Or, at least, learn to fly? Where was Mr. Scarab now, I haven’t seen him in a while, will he ever come back? I should go and talk to the moon now, maybe she will have some answers.

Photography by Madelaine Bustamante