Pet Shop Boys - Only The Wind
Life is filled with "what if's" and "could be's". A set of choices that, like windows, keep closing every day.
One must embrace the future, but by doing so blindly, they may also find themselves embracing its dangers.
How many windows have I left open? How many are closed forever?
How much light is inside this room? What if I trip and fall into something? Is there someone else with me?
I don't know who you are, but I know you're near.
I've felt your presence since childhood. Where are you hiding? In the darkest of corners, or in bright daylight? Are you here to take my children away? Here to say that I wasn't a good parent and that I shouldn't deserve to see them again? My children... They are my children, not yours! They were never your children, they're MINE! They belong to me and only I can take care of them. What else do you want from me? Do you want my blood, do you want my teeth, do you want my husband, what else is there left in this world for you to take, huh!? ANSWER ME!
I've already told you everything, I gave you everything... You took away my money, my family, my wealth and left me with a house full of nothing.
Leave them alone. My children, flesh of my flesh, should be left out of this. I'll never be clean, I'm filth inside and outside, but my children... Are you afraid of your children? Afraid of the beings you once bore within you? Afraid of their purity? You want to take that away and make it yours? It was never yours, your children aren't you, they will never be truly yours no matter how much you force them to wear the same clothing, speak the same words, read the same books and do everything you once did as a child.
I miss those days of glory... Or was it always gloomy? Do I want that darkness? What are you really afraid of, Mrs. Fillyjonk? That your children grow up and move elsewhere to never visit you or send any letters or show any signs that they still care for you as much as you cared for them? I see a picture of my mother on the left wall. There she is, staring at me. She looks happy, and I can't remember the last time she ever looked so happy. Then, after a while, I realize that I haven't been staring at a picture, but rather a mirror.
Do I look like my mother? Did I commit the same mistakes as she did? Did she ever do something so bad she came to regret such a thing? I can't remember, and why should I? Why would I ever want to remember being spanked for doing something wrong? That never happened. She taught me discipline, organization, cleaning and basically I am who I am thanks to her. Would I still be myself if I had a different mother? Would I yell at my children if I was a better mother? I don't know... I'll never know.
— Mrs. Fillyjonk! – I heard someone knocking on the front door. My first reaction is to yell, but I don't know if I did or if it was just a thought I had.
— Who is it? – I said calmly. Maybe I didn't yell. I don't want to yell ever again after what happened to my children.
— It's me, Moominmamma!
— Oh, thank heavens! – Sighing in relief, I gently held the door knob to let Moominmamma in.
— Good day, miss.
— Mr. Hemulen? – And, as it seems, I have another guest besides her. – Why are you here?
— Good news, I found a doctor! – When Moominmamma uttered those words, the heaviness of my steps, the burden carried on my back, all of these unpleasant things faded with her words. How did she do that?
— Oh... Thank you, Moominmamma. – Words aren't enough to express how I feel, but I try. – I had no idea that Mr. Hemulen was a doctor.
— I have a bachelor's degree in biology. – Said Mr. Hemulen as he stepped into my house. I hope he doesn't notice the mess around. – I know a lot about plants and animals, although I devote most of my research to plants. You can grow a garden and study the behavior of plants according to each season, whether they prefer to grow in sunlight or shade, the aspects of each fruit that carries a seed, a deeper analysis of the structure of cellular organisms under a microscope at home... My garden is a work of art. I'd say it's beautiful in every way, but unfortunately, I'm not here to talk about plants. No, it's more complicated than that, isn't it?
— Yes. My children. – I said, looking at the ceiling. I swear that sometimes I can see it leaking, but I don't know why or when it happens. It seems normal, but not long ago I saw some red stains above and I'm still shaken by that sight. – I want to know if my children will be fine after they drank a whole bottle of maple syrup.
— Did they do that at once?
— They did. I found out they were sick as soon as I got home. All I could hear from Etta, Votta and Tretta were their moaning and complaints about their stomachs being hurt.
— Hmmm... Mind if I take a look at the bottle?
— It's in the kitchen. – I said before I strode purposefully towards the kitchen, followed by Mr. Hemulen and Moominmamma. What I see are the remnants of a crime scene, and I do wonder what my guests see in my place.
— What do you think? – Moominmamma asked.
— It looks normal. – Mr. Hemulen said as held the bottle and stared at it. – It's certainly maple syrup, but it's not the big bottle I thought it would be.
In hindsight, maybe I was exaggerating when I said the bottle was big, but then I think of my children, how small they are compared to the world outside and all kinds of disasters that are bigger than ourselves and how helpless we are when it comes to disasters bound to happen and how I should have done everything on my reach in order to prove that I am a good mother because it's what I am, isn't it? If I'm not, then who am I? I don't want to become someone I'd hate to be.
— Well, as far as I know, no one ever died of sugar overdose by ingesting a single bottle of syrup.
— Die? Will my children die!?... Of overdose!?– Hearing Mr. Hemulen's words caused instant unease to my heart. I can't breathe right, I can't stand right, my heart is aching, my vision is blurred, the weather is getting worse, so much confusion that births delusion, nothing feels right when people around me get hurt and my children are being hurt and I hurt them so much and breathing hurts and thinking about all of these things hurts so much.
— Why don't you have a seat, Mrs. Fillyjonk? You've been through a lot today. – Moominmamma brought a chair for me to sit on and filled a glass of water for me. Why couldn't I do such a simple task? I feel so worthless, so upset, so different from myself.
— H-how else w-w-would you f-feel... k-knowing that, as s-soon as you leave home... Your children might get hurt or even die? – I said, slowly sipping the water. Everything has to go slowly, no need to be fast.
Overdose... How I despise that word. I hate it so much! I know I shouldn't because, well, it's just a word, but hearing it makes me so mad. It's something I don't want to happen, and yet, like a disaster, it happens anyway.
Why can't this awful day end already? What am I supposed to do when things get out of control? Why can't I take care of myself if I took pride in being a competent mother figure? Where is my prestige, my health, my organization, everything I am is simply gone, but why? Have I been lying to myself all along? Did I always want to yell at my children? I wanted to yell at Moominmamma, I wanted to blame her instead of me for my own mistakes and this is what happens and it is so unfair that I have to leave beneath this skin and I want to shed out of it and become something better like a butterfly or something and I'm not making sense anymore and I feel like everyone is going to abandon me because they can't understand a single thing I say and do.
— My apologies if my words were harsh or unclear. – Said Mr. Hemulen in his attempt to comfort me. – What I meant to say is that ingesting excessive amounts of sugar in a single day will not cause a lifelong overdose.
— It won't?
— Oh, for sure. You see, it takes time for someone to develop a dependency on a substance like sugar. These sorts of things do not happen overnight.
— So that means my children aren't addicted?
— They aren't. However, I'm concerned about the levels of sucrose in this maple syrup.
— Sucrose, what is it?
— A disaccharide composed of half glucose and half fructose.
— Uh... Okay. – I feel like a fool when I hear these scientific terms without understanding what they mean. – And what is a disaccharide? I know what it is, but... Oh, who am I kidding? You never saw me like this, you don't deserve to.
— If I may, I can tell you what is probably going on with your children.
— Please do. I want to get rid of any remaining doubts.
I could barely get up from the chair without Moominmamma's assistance. It's so pathetic, but it's to be expected of such a pathetic being. A pathetic, miserable Fillyjonk who spends most of her time being hard on herself, but that won't get us anywhere, will it? I'm forced to stop with this nonsense in mind.
As we crossed the living room to go upstairs, Mr. Hemulen did his best to explain to me about sugars, how the organism absorbs them and all sorts of fascinating stuff that I wish I had the time to learn beyond a wheel note. Carbohydrates, polymers, glycosidic linkage, I don't get any of these words, but from what I understood, glucose and fructose, being simple sugars, can be easily absorbed by the intestine and go straight into the bloodstream. While glucose is broken down by our cells as it is, fructose needs to be processed in the liver into something useful for our body. The liver converts fructose into glucose, but it can also create fat from high amounts of fructose, and a surplus of fat is unhealthy for the organism.
That's what worries me. All of this unseen fat, lurking deep inside our bowels, accumulating during life, and when you least expect it, a heart attack, or a stroke, or an organ failing... These things could happen. They happened with some of my relatives. A few minutes pass, and while I look at my children from afar, because I'm not ready to see them up close yet, they seem fine. Do they feel bad? Yes, they do, but they're fine.
Why worry? Is it because Mr. Hemulen has something to say before he leaves? Is everything under control or is there room for more disaster? My house seems empty at times, as if it was built to host disaster within its walls.
— Your children need to stay hydrated, Mrs. Fillyjonk. – He said. – Other than that, I also recommend they eat something rich in fibers and proteins to keep their blood sugar levels stable.
— Alright. – I nodded in agreement. – Thank you very much. I... I'll do what you said.
— If you excuse me, I need to go out to do my research on deep-sea dandelions. It's a new species whose discovery has astounded the international scientific community. We have a lot to know about this world... And ourselves too.
As Mr. Hemulen leaves by the front door, I'm left with hopeful thoughts, yet I can't let go of the bad ones. My children... All of this began when they took a bottle of maple syrup from the upper cabinet... They could have fallen from that height. They could have broken a bone with the fall. Broken a bone... I was so worried about the empty bottle that... I didn't think of any other risks and... Throughout my life, I've always been expecting disaster, but never once I've thought of a miracle... I think it's a miracle to be alive...
— How about we prepare some food for your kids? – Moominmamma is still here and willing to help me.
— We? – I asked as my legs began to shake against my will, almost like they belonged to someone else's body and were not part of me anymore. – I'm not sure I can do it. With the way I'm feeling, I might burn myself while cooking, but... I have a garden outside, so maybe... I'll collect the ingredients as you come up with a recipe, what do you think?
— It's fine for me. And you?
— I'd be lying if I said I'm fine, but I can do it without any trouble. Vegetables do not bite, they don't have teeth. Besides, I'll do anything for my children because I love them, from the bottom of my heart.
I have absolutely no idea why I said that. It sounds so silly, so sentimental and yet I said it with the utmost seriousness that I carry into every conversation. Why? It's not that deep. It wouldn't be out of place if those words belonged to Moominmamma, she's the only person in the room with the likelihood to say such a thing, but it was me, it was my voice I just heard. It's so strange, but on the other hand, you've said worse things, things you thought you'd never dare to say in front of anyone, and what I'm about to do will make up for that betrayal of my being.
I'm sorry.