B-R-E-A-T-H

“Lights”

“Camera”

“Action”

“Wait no, I’m not ready yet.”

“Take five.”

I have been rehearsing over and over again, months on and months off for this moment, this final opportunity. This should be as easy as wiping my own butt, but yet here I am experiencing the insane process of stress: over and over again.

Will I remember my words? Am I good enough? Should I quit?

My husband has been diagnosed with cancer, my mother died last year, father the year before that. My life is a mess, yet I’m here, but for what purpose am I here, only to let the emotions thats piled up in heaps inside me come out?

“4 minutes to go”

Okay breath in , out in and out, tummy out tummy in, just relax. How can I relax? What does it mean to relax? This couple of months has been hectic as hell. You think one thing is over and then the next thing / problem start again.

My mother was a sweet woman, but smoked way too much. Dad on the other hand were always happy and then just collapsed. My husband well you all know the cliché of perfect well he was far from it, but the idea of him suffering again and again. I just needed to escape in a way.

I reach for the bottle of water reserved for actors only and take a sip. The water goes coursing through me. It seems to calm down my nerves a bit.

Wait no misleading brain; I’m not calmed down at all my hands keeps on shaking. Okay one I have done this a thousand of times before, two I’m not that bad in it, three just breathe damn you just breathe. In and out in and out, there you are nicely done lungs.

My stress seems to be going away slowly, but I’m still not ready.

“Three more minutes”

I feel the room spinning; everything seems to be a cloudy colour for me. I see the bottle that has been in my hand only a few seconds ago fall and then I fall or so it seems. The floor is nearing, the walls are caving in, the ceiling, the ceiling is flying far far away.

…

I’m falling … wait no I’m spiralling out of control. Over and over again, wait what is going on? There are speech bubbles around me filled with pictures, there’s marshmallows drifting between me and the speech bubbles, but wait there’s something more. It seems like a play button on the speech bubbles. Surrounded by Liquorice, ag disgusting.

I drift closer to the speech bubbles to inspect it.

There’s a picture of me as a little girl in the one, then of my mom, dad and husband.

The liquorice seems alive.

I reach for the speech bubble with my Dad’s face, but the liquorice hisses at me like a cat.

Then my husband’s face again the liquorice hisses.

Okay fine I will take that one I say with reluctance.

I reach for the bubble with my photo as a child.

..

It feels as a warm blanket is being wrapped around me. Not too warm though just right for the coldness that has suddenly invaded the pathway to the memory.

I stand there or not me, but rather the small me.

She stands there looking up and swaying from side to side.

Suddenly warm hands wrap around her small frame.

“No mommy stop”

She says.

The young woman tickles her.

The young me giggles.

The young woman scoops her up and plays with her as if the young girl is on a plane in the woman’s arms.

Then a man approach and I recognise him immediately.

My Dad.

“Is my two girls’ in wonderland again?”

“No honey we are on the moon”

The young woman replies I recognise her as my mom.

Out of the bubbles I drift again, now my body that were almost black slowly begins to take colour again from my toes. Just my toes are now their normal colour.

The bubble of my Mom begins to shine brighter and brighter. I reach for that bubble again.

I almost pull at the bubble just to see my Mom again, but the bubble reluctantly starts to slowly open.

I wait in anticipation.

Then I hear a scream.

I reach into the bubble to see the source of the screams. There lay a woman sprawled out on her back, hands tied and arms tied, but fighting to protect her child from the intruders.

Each time she screams they poke something sharp in her sides. She tells them they can take anything they want, as long as they just don’t hurt her baby.

The intruders listen, but hits her across the face once again, then cuts her in her inner thighs. She doesn’t scream out in pain for she knows that if she does her daughter will get hurt. 

The bubbles go all mushy inside and I get thrown out of the bubble to once again see the colour in my legs appearing now again.

I want to cry.

I want to scream.

But…

The marshmallows push me to the next memory.

It’s the one of my Dad.

There I see a woman that looks like my mom, but her frame is smaller than I remember. She sits in a corner all by her lonesome. The smaller me tugs on her sleeve, but she doesn’t even notice. My Dad grabs me from behind.

“Leave Mommy alone she is not feeling well…”

“But…”

The smaller me protests.

“Wroom…”

My Dad tries and take my attention from my mom

…

A couple of years past as I see the next memory in this memory I’m older now 18 it seems. I’m yelling at my Mom and she does nothing just reach for a cigarette and goes outside. 

The memory in the bubble ends.

I’m floating again now slowly, slowly towards the bubble where my husband’s face is.

With the colour of my lower body now fully returned.

The liquorice parts slowly for me, knowing far well maybe that I’m already hurt.

My husband comes into view.

He smiles at me.

Then listens to me.

I just argue and moan.

I accuse him of not listening although he is listening.

He screams then walk away and sits on his own.

I come out of the memory bubble, but wait I see a light. It breaks a way for me to drift through. I reach toward it then I hear voices.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“She seems to have a little too much going on. Her body is in need of some serious rest.”

I hear a sigh.

“Probably because she thinks I have cancer. I hope she wakes up that I can tell her the test was negative.”

“She seems to hear you, she’s slowly waking up.”

“Honey it’s going to be okay, everything is going to be okay, just relax, don’t stress. I love you.”

My body feel numb, yet I want to say something.

“I ..I …I ..”

I begin.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shhh shhh hush , its okay I'm sorry too.”

My husband then climbs in behind me and holds me and I begin to cry.

For him …

For my Dad …

but especially for my Mom.