I am very, very aware of her pretty little face, right at the nape of my neck. She is breathing down on me in her futile attempt at belittling my already little self. I chose to ignore her hushed chuckles as I focus on the blade in hand. I try again, to get in the harder bitter shell.
“Arh! This is just wrong”, I hear her say, but I continue to peel any way.
I dig in my sharp steel knife into the hardness of much awaited life. The fumes are sharp and flavor is bitter, I don’t notice when I begin to cry. I am done with hard sunny shell of becoming a baby and I can see the sweet layer of tiny steps. I am getting impatient as I hear her snickering behind my back, I peel away the childhood and all the growing up days.
Oh dear lord!
Comes the rotten layer, of lies, deceits and all the ugly things that come with college affairs. I wash my hands in lonely tears and get right back on my pealing race. There are sweet flavors of love, motherhood and growing old, but I am too busy getting to the core. With every layer gone, the silence deepens, I can’t guess why, she is no longer speaking. I feel the sadness grow, as I am left with nothing more. Surrounded by the shells and layers, I went through life, like a chore. As I turn around, I see her sad face. My life, looking up, as if to say,
“Yes, you are done,
but it wasn’t a race,
whatever happened to living and taking a moment to embrace?”
Reflections 