Could heaven ever be like this?

A string of affection feels wonderfully cunning when the sun dreams.

There’s a woman in this house who calls herself my mother. A woman who left her entire life behind, braving the dangers of a war and the dangers that come from crossing a border. A woman who had to learn the rules of a new country compared to the one she was used to. A woman who focused her time and attention working so that there was food on the table, clothes to put on our backs and a stable roof above our heads. How alone she must have felt. The bravery she held close is one that I know runs through me. I ponder who this woman could’ve been had she the courage that runs through the veins of her daughters. The woman that I know–is a mother that I could not reach as a child. A woman I’ve seen cry behind her whispered prayers in the pews of the religion she clings onto. A woman who overworks herself and willingly puts herself in a cycle of debt. A woman who is giving and caring, conditionally. A woman who would dress me in the “perfect” image. A woman who holds me to her standards. A woman who claimed people would talk if I didn’t “fit” their image, more so, hers. A woman who told me that I would rot on my own. A woman who told me that my emotions didn’t matter. A woman who made it clear that I would never be enough because I didn’t do what she wanted. A woman who never asked of my struggles. A woman that has hurt me with the worst of words. A woman that I find in other women who end up hurting me in the same way. This woman is my mother, and she is a stranger. A stranger who never answers questions about her past struggles. A stranger who never lets her emotions show. A stranger who has never shared her desires. A stranger who doesn’t take the time to understand who I am. A stranger I wish I hadn’t known. A stranger that will never change. I wish this stranger, my mother, were more like me. There’s a stranger in this house who calls herself my mother, and she is simply another struggling woman that I know.

Tell me what do I do when I dream of you. You hold me close, saying it'll be alright. Tell me what do I do, when I wake up and you're not there. Tell me what do I do, when I'm in need of you. When you're not real, because you're a dream, that I've made up and kept locked tight. So, tell me, what do I do?

It was that time of the year again. The trees had undressed themselves for what was to come. Winter drastically arrived at her mark without holding back. The trees were prepared. A change never feared. A blessed welcome. They embraced the white, long, and cold nights without hesitation.

Is it possible to come back as a river? The way the river weaved itself into the earth is the type of freedom that she yearned for. It was ever flowing, smashing against, and jumping over rocks, reshaping the bed poured by lakes residing in mountain tops that branched down into streams found in parks of the city. A freedom that covers everywhere. It was a place where people come to gather their thoughts, explore through creativity, or to sit and let their mind be at peace. A place where wildlife flourishes and replenishes itself with. A place where one can be. A place that many try to understand. A place that just is. A cold breeze flew in causing goosebumps to raise on her arms. The sky had gradually turned gray on the course of the hike. The rain was coming down now. The first droplet always took her by surprise, and it followed with a look up towards the sky to confirm that the grey clouds were the cause of the water and not something else. The freedom she felt in the rain reminded her of the river. The water would sink into her hair and skin; naturally, it was something that every living being learned to adjust to. Rain would reshape one’s day with the option of taking an umbrella with them, and by driving slowly watching the water drain out of the city, back into the mountains. That was freeing enough for her.

The trees stood tall, pale, shining bright on sunny days, dull and haunting on stormy days. They looked free and were naked for anyone to see. Once colorful leaves lay black and spoiled upon tree trunks. It appeared that leaves had no control when it came to falling—leaving what they know behind. She viewed it as a form of vulnerability that came naturally to them. She liked to say it was one of the first signs of winter making her way home to her heart. Snow made its grand entrance the week of the equinox. It’s been snowing every other week since. Winter arrived early this year and the trees were beyond well prepared. She wanted to be as prepared as the trees this winters’ journey. There were no signs of the nagging voice doubting every move, feeling and thought, saying that she wasn’t. She had agreed to tend to her heart for the season as winter does. She was prepared. Best of all, She's home.

The trees stood pale, naked, shining bright on sunny days, dull and haunting on stormy days. They looked free and were open for anyone to see. Once colorful leaves lay black and spoiled upon tree trunks. It appears that leaves had no control when it came to falling—leaving what they know behind. I’d like to think it was one of the first signs of winter making her way.

The forest sang to me through falsetto whistles and baritone hums among the trees while the wind skimmed across the lake that sent static ripples throughout the body of water. It reminded me of the static we see on TV when we lose signal or the noise we hear in our heads when our thoughts are dormant.

What do you call it when you lose parts of yourself through people you meet and ultimately find yourself? I wander in a daydream of us. I lose myself in the words you say, “I’ll steal your heart away”, and I wanted you to. Daydreams of floating around in the world that I made up of us. Lucky for me that dreams are only that – floating in the air. And then I lose myself. You change your mind. You find someone else. Everything you said turns meaningless. At least you’re honest, right? You may not have run away like a coward, but you slithered like a snake leaving me to wonder – were you aware of what you were doing? I lose myself in those thoughts. Thoughts of you stringing me along because you were lonely. Thoughts that are only that – thoughts. How could I know? I couldn’t. I lose myself in assuming what went wrong and what could’ve done right to keep you around. I lose myself in moments that don’t exist.   And then I find myself in your words. A warning, you said, a warning that I never needed. A warning about the dangers of the world. I'm not as fragile as a butterfly wind that needs preserving. My leaves may have holes from greedy caterpillars, but that doesn't mean I need to be treated by others. I found myself in unspoken words.  I wanted show you my mind as you unraveled yours, but I couldn’t because words still get caught in my throat out of fear of judgement. A fear I’ve battled with for years and a fear I will keep fighting until I win. I found myself in the vulnerability I gave you. It was a smidge but never a regret. I told myself that this time around that I would share my feelings and I did. I found myself when you left. Acceptance was easy – as I know who and how I am. I could never blame you for that. Through you, I may have lost a part of me, but I found what I was looking for all along – me.   Maybe you can call it awareness.

Smears of blood covered the walls and floor. Blood dripped from her lips to the floor. She lifted her thumb and swiped it on her lower lip before staring down at her blood-stained hands. What had I done? She thought what once tasted so sweet now tasted of rotten eggs. Her eyes narrowed down at the lifeless body that laid on the ground. Her brows furrowed and her face drained of color. Her eyes widened in horror as she grabbed for the scraps of flesh that laid on the floor, hastily placing them back on the torn up body and bones. Desperation filled the room as each scrap of flesh would slide off and find itself back on the floor. Her breathing turned shallow and tears formed in her eyes. The tears burned her cheeks as they streaked their way down. Her breathing hitched and an awful sounding wail escaped her. Her hunger had blinded her and taken over. She wasn’t supposed to take it this far. She wanted nothing but admire what was in front of her. Instead of taking her time to unravel what was in front of her, she ravished them to the bone without a second thought. Guilt crawled up her veins as she stood up. What was she supposed to do with the body? She couldn’t just forget what she had done. Shame washed over her when she realized she had done this before. Another lesson went unlearned. A lesson she ignored, again. Greed consumed her. All she had wanted was someone to herself. someone who’d let her peer into their soul, but instead she jumped into it. She took what she couldn’t take back. “I’m sorry.” She choked out. She grabbed a mop and a bucket of bleach, pouring it over the blood on the ground. She splashed the bleach on the walls and steps that led to the bedroom. Blood trailed from the front door towards the bedroom. A trail that she could’ve stopped if she had been aware. A trail she’s once had to cover up several times before. All she could do was clean it up. There was nothing else to do. A red flash caught her eye near the bottom of the stairs. A ring that didn’t belong to her. It was a ring that belonged to the body in the room. A perfectly chiseled skull with red rubies in place of the eyes. It eerily resembled how the body looked now. The more she examined it, the more she saw herself in the red eyes. She saw the yearning. She felt for something, or someone. A yearning that pulled at heart but could never see what was pulling at it. The want she held above her of wanting a better life for herself and those around her. Pain from years of withholding onto feelings that could have easily been talked out or let out from feeling  something. Life that carried her to places she imagined for better or worse. Last of all, she could see the regret she carried of inflicting pain and confusion not only on herself, but towards others. She would stop the trail next time. In fact, it wouldn’t even start. She would control her insatiable hunger. It would not rule her. The skull ring would be her reminder. A reminder of everything she yearned for. A reminder that she did have the power to control herself. There was a balance and she would keep it that way. She was not her hunger. And the body in the room was not going to be just another body. Before she knew it, she was done cleaning and was now standing above the body. She tied her hair up and slipped on gloves. She was ready. The brown vinyl flooring made it a simple process. Who knew that brown vinyl flooring had so many uses? She prepared the white wrap on the floor. It had to be in line with the body. She rolled the body over and wrapped it up tight. A light breeze blew her hair once she made it out of the front door. It was hefty work getting the body work. She always told herself that she wouldn’t do it again solely due to how heavy dead weight weighed on her body. It seemed she didn’t care enough to listen. Instead of digging up another unmarked grave deep in the woods, she was going to do something else. She pulled the body in increments down an unpaved path towards the river. The river led down to the city. If a body washed up, they would investigate. They would find nothing because she hid her tracks, but someone would want to dig - or so she hoped. By the time they figured it out, she would go in peace because she would have learned her lesson. When she arrived at the river, she took in a deep breath and stared down at the water. The water rushed and screamed in joy as it made its way down the bends of the river through the rocks with views of the trees and sky above it. It brought her comfort that she couldn’t see her own reflection in the raging river. Nothing to pick at or haunt her. She edged the body towards the line of the river. There was no running back. She had to do this. It would be for her own good. She would sacrifice to learn. Knowledge that would help her in the future and help others. She was not her hunger. This was the start of her learning. This was the start for her redemption.

The air held its breath as snowflakes danced their way down from the sky. Lights faintly sparkled through the hazy gray clouds that covered the sky. Whirls of airplanes flying above sounded above. Soothing soft hums vibrated from the earth creating a safe and welcoming night.