She’s here

She won’t leave me alone. Is what it is. I didn’t call for her, yet here she is. My companion for the whole day it seems, no matter if it fits with my plans.

I suppress a chuckle as I walk out of the house with her- perhaps this will be vaguely entertaining. But soon she pulls out a hint of fuschia from under my grey, and I tuck it back, a little exasperated already. I start wondering why she has that pout for no reason at all as we walk my familiar everyday path, and why the hell she keeps stomping her feet so loudly. Oh great, now everyone is looking at us. We are barely out the door, and I am losing my patience. And by the looks of it, she won’t leave me alone.

On the way she’s making eye contact with strangers. Sometimes they look away, sometimes they don’t, sometimes little kids in the tram smile and sometimes they start to cry. “You made the kid cry,” I tell her. And she looks at me with her big eyes, and she seems not so different from the kid in that moment. And I feel like a bitch. So I hold my head and look out of the window. And she keeps looking at me with her eyes round as saucers by now- I can feel them burning up the back of my head. She clearly wants me to apologize. I clearly keep ignoring her. But she won’t leave me alone.

She’s walked into work with me, like she belongs there. Perhaps even more than I do. She’s delighted to be in. She’s talking to every single person on the way. Oh God, clearly making me look bad compared to usual days. I poke her impatiently- the truth is I am a wee bit jealous. And worried. What if someone asks me why I have brought her at all? Who authorized for her to be here? How do I explain that she won’t leave me alone!

She’s having a grand time at the office- she sits perched up on top of the cupboard right behind me. She keeps moving and shaking, and mainly dangling her feet to and fro, kicking me with the tip of her boots on purpose all the time. “Right, she wants attention,” I say to myself. I turn and smile at her politely and then get back to whatever it is that I am doing. She takes offence at such obviously inadequate attention. Or so I think, for why else has she started to sing a limerick at the top of her voice in the middle of the work day!

This is too much for me by now, and I am looking frantically around so much, with the embarrassment cutting off sufficient oxygen flow (that does happen, right?), so that my head is almost spinning. Everything seems unreal. She, in her insanely bright outfit on top of the white cupboard (or was it beige?), the low hum of the world going about its business, and her loud other-worldly limerick… nothing fits, and everything is too much, and I really should get some more oxygen right about now!

I don’t remember too clearly what happened next. I may or may not have pulled her rudely from the cupboard. Which she may have found entertaining. I may or may not have yelled at her that poetry in the middle of the day was just plain inappropriate. At this point I definitely know what happened next, because time stood still. She stood veeery still. For what seemed like a looong time. And I remember thinking that she has never looked at me with such disappointment and cold (not hot) anger before.

How do I explain that it is all for her? All that I do. My irritation even- all for her good. In this moment, though, I am aware that I only look foolish. That between the both of us, nowhere does it seem that she is the one who needs me. She looks like she might murder me. I seriously ponder if she is capable of it, should it come to that. I haven’t reached a conclusion. She doesn’t murder me, of course, at least not today.

She has however flung her shoe in the air at me. And then the other. I duck and stay ducked. Looking at the floor. When I look up, she is gone. The sound of a whoosh tells me she ran right out. I look around at the shoes- she’s nowhere in sight.
“She ran off without her shoes,” I worry.
Then I picture her running, bare feet on the grass. And I smile. You go, girl!

I do worry. But not for her. I worry, and I hope. I pray. That she won’t leave me alone.

Sometimes I go many days without seeing her. Till some morning I am lost, looking in the mirror, and there she comes up.. around the corner of the mouth… in an imperceptible upward tilt, and the eyes light up. Nothing in the reflection in the mirror changes, and yet it is clear that she is here. And then I know- that nothing in that day may look different. And yet it will somehow be different.

Featured Image: pixabay.com