I feed the ducks near the river and make friends with the swing. I am not in therapy but there was nobody to listen as I listlessly make lists of things which I might have been doing and had been not done. The things which made me I speak softly to the swing as I handle it gently because I am now a big girl. Still slimmer than 14 size and getting to be over the limit of 14 size. I giggled hopeless the swing were getting me down they did not fit me anymore but still I squeeze in and breath a sigh. A sigh which said I can still fit into the swing.
We live near the bridge and I play flatsom on the ferry of my mind. That I am alive more often than not. I wile away the time thinking and doing stuff. There is nothing the meaning I do not want to know but the time is never right. I made a hash of it all. My life is in tatters. Then I swing some more and I am alive to all that nature has to hold. I will win this round too. There is a plea in my sounds as if the wildness creeps back and then when I let go of the swing there is calm. I am myself again. There is this elfin will trying me and they do not matter anymore that I left this a long time ago and now I was at loggerheads with destiny. What to do with destiny mother said destiny was planned by God and that there was no escape. That destiny meant marriage to Abdul. Mother mother where did you find me such a lover?
“He is the most handsome man.” she said about her Abdul. I married to Abdul what for?
“Keep him in the family.”
“Oh he is not going anywhere believe you me.”
I go jetting on this and that book there is not much to figure out for the truth is out there ready and willing to be unearthed. I go to the pond to think and certainties are the reality how dull and inspid it looked after a couple of years. The pond had been a good place but since than goings on were reported and things had got worse. That bestial actions had taken place and that the meaningful glances thrown aside were that it was my reason deserting me and bringing over troubles which tormented the man who was keeping children safe.
But then when I first went there it had looked grand and imposing. Like everything else I go to reach out for it is left old and withered. Like poison ivy or something like nothing on this earth decay follows me round and round as if I am being hounded by the damnest thing my mother has made another decay potion a magic which makes everything decay. That is not true it is. My daily prison round as I would call it. The waster of my years.
“Does one think I am miserable?” I asked myself that question, “One does not think at all.”
“It is a presumptious to think.” social comment there is always this in history does it matter what kind of history it was?
What does a mad muslim girl do? I do not belong anywhere at all. There is no place nothing we all have to work we all have to contribute to society otherwise we are shipped back where we belong. No use coming here and being ill. Old and sick is useless the foreigners have to work and look after the whites. That is why we are here? To do the jobs which nobody else will do and make the things go straight. Where is the swing? The swing is bubbling with me thinking and it is nagging me where the swing is flying to as I might drop. An accident occurred the other day some idiot got on the swing and dropped. A fact a fact they swung like me and dropped ouch poor soul she was fat. No way they do things very energetically and the swing just makes a rotten sound as it is useless.
My childhood too is over now and useless I’m I to remember it?
“Useless childhood I was never a child I grew too big and now the swing is asserting making assertions to the facts that I am even bigger than a young adult and should leave this childhood folly behind.”
I am a fool.
“A girl Muslim girl did not think back in the late 1970′s it was not allowed.” I answer.
But saying to oneself one is a fool makes perfect sense and says the status quo that is what women like me are.
And I swing all the harder.
“But were you annoying?” asked the historian.
“Definitely truth be told I was so irratating went to my head. Nobody can stand being near me. Like a buzz like a wasp I would sting them all and melt them down to ever boring swoons.”
“Allowances must be made she does not matter at all who cares?” said Moira and others like her the English roses how cool for you all to come along and share the caring words.
“Who cared yes who cared about me?” I asked for sincerity.
Praise him and prise him came along too.
“Nobody I had no one to say the right words and do the right deeds I tried getting a man in the jar but he would never do it.”
“He was too old.”
“He had mothballs.”
“Well at least his grave suit was all ready.”
“Look you thought moments ago to marry him?”
“But his mothballs were the last straw I thought I would look better as a widow.”
“Yes Mr Right,” I called James, “what do you want with the wife in tow.”
“I begot a wife because of the mothballs.” said James making his excuses and leaving me in the lurch.
“Life is strange.” I swing.
“It is connected to something stranger than fiction.”
So there was I thinking on the swing and the thing was did not have a penny for a cup of tea.
“What was bothering you?” asked this woman hopelessly entangled with me called mother as she was cruel she too had to know. Abdul just did not see the point of it all he just had to be my master. I am not a slave.
“We will make you do what you least desire to be.”
“I will do what I least want to do?”
“Yes that is right.”