Life in the morning

Life was her name. She woke up this morning to find out that she was only half of her. She went to the mirror to see if it was still deceptive as said in many references she had read. The mirror is deceptive, my dear. No. Especially her fingers from that surviving half of her could feel the rough edges of what used to be her middle part, seen vertically. Shit! How am I gonna drink my coffee like this? She started out with the walk, of course. It was always a good sign of independence. Look at babies! On your foot! She looked at her toes – the nails were painted metallic green from the night before. She only half remembered, but her only half mouth still could taste that Paulaner beer she deplored yet couldn’t resist her buddies had brought in. I think I danced a bit, yes. And probably hit my head against the poker table last night. Who knows? Her half-regained consciousness reminded her to stop bothering about the past because it wasn’t there anymore anyway. Walk. Walk. Walk. … No. That couldn’t be it. That was not how to call it now that she only had a half head and face, half torso, a leg, a foot, an arm – a whole half body. Walk, according to the American Oxford Dictionary is "move at a regular and fairly slow pace by lifting and setting down each foot in turn, never having both feet off the ground at once" … no shit. So big deal. She learned how to move from one spot to another, to put it simply. She hit a wall and all, but she managed to get to the kitchen. Brewing a cup of coffee was a pretty tough quest with her unpardonable situation. But she laughed. She wished she could slice the cup in halves to have “a half cup of coffee” just like Alice in her insane tea party with March Hare and Mad Hatter. While waiting for her half cup of coffee to be ready, Life motioned to the glass sliding door, opened the blinds and the door, leaving the screen door shut just enough to make her feel the cold breeze. She felt pain in her improperly cut parts. There was a price for curiosity. But go on keep your curiosity alive. You’ll get cuts and bruises as a bonus! Was it the meaning behind that narcissistic cat’s grin? She wondered. Chesire Cat. How could a warning be tempting? How tedious, she thought. That was a game she had learned for quite a while. She carved a grin on her half face with some difficulty. There. Smile at your own misery. Her only nostril smelled the coffee and her ear heard no more hiss from the coffeemaker. It pumped her a bit. She walked back to kitchen. With ease. With a simple joy of having been able to brew a half cup of coffee. Walk? Of course. Didn’t I tell you she got pumped up? Though not entirely, no! Why ‘most’ if you can get enough with some ‘more’? Life is not whole yet, but it is not half either. Life is three-quarter with just a missing 'f'.

[april 12, 2007]