PECULIAR

TWELVE - A poem to my son

                TWELVE

It's been three months since peculiar started walking and thanks to God - we were still breathing. I never thought we'd survive to this extent.

He not only walked and talked in the day but at night as well. He normally sleep walked.

It was very disheartening to accept the fact that peculiar was a somnambulist and somniloquist at the same time.

His words frightened me in my sleep even though he wasn't referring to me. He would utter some crazy, scary audible words that made me want to die. I trembled with fear and was sure of witnessing this drama as the day passed by, probably for the rest of my life.

I sat in the sofa with hands filled with tears. "Why me?"

Fate? Fuck fate!

Why on earth does it have to be me? Is the giver of children that heartless? Why should I suffer for something I know nothing about? The world really isn't fair. The world isn't balanced!

"was this really the way the life Kasey kept emphasizing on was enjoyed?" I threw out words to the 12 inches photo on my hands - Nelson's photo.

I knew I was talking to a dumb photo but I just wanted to pour out my thoughts. I wished they were answered.

I just didn't have words for Peculiar. He had filled my heart with despair. His aggressive attitudes kept me thinking always. I had even composed a poem, to remind him of my pain.

"I'm in the valley of thoughts,
Near the damn hole which I sought not for,
Still searching for answers of how I got there,
You led me here,
Not with a rope on my neck,
But with your chocking words of heck...."

I noticed his presence and sharply closed the book. I saw his eyes, filled with anger.

Then with a slap he threw a harsh question at me. "how dare you open your very cursed mandible to utter such mendacious words about me?"

I was shocked. The second slap I've received since these shits. I got raved with anger. This was the height of it - the highest point of insubordination. What insolence?

I was ready to let hell loose with him. Without thinking I returned the slap. Then I noticed an old figure behind me and soon I realized that my hand was hanging - held firmly by Mother. And it dawned on me
that the slap was never returned because mother held back my heavy hand.

With vexation, I left. Those words of his still rang in my ears and soon I realized I had built my hopes in anarchy.

**************

Three days later...

I tried catching some sleep but my eyes weren't responding. My body was willing but my eyes were adamant.

Off course Peculiar won't let me hear a word as he was constantly drumming.
At times I feared the building would collapse.

I took a long stare at the school photos I took years back as a college student. I stretched my hands to them.

My mind reflected back to the old days of less worries. With my eyes closed, I created a picture in my heart and glanced through old school memories. The funniest part of it.

I was familiar with friends, an extrovert who always associated with people of my choice. They liked me. I was occasionally surrounded by admirers and friends that kept life moving.

I had received my first love note and got flushed with anger. Why?

Because it came from the wrong person. That Jim I used to despise due to his proud mouth.

I had a crush on someone else and secretly wished he did notice me, even when I knew I was chasing rainbows.

"That Jim, how dare him?"

I tore the letter and stamped on it furiously.

Dickson, my crush had similar qualities with Nelson. His eyes, looks, smiles, just everything.

I was deeply in love with him but that was before I met Nelson, whom I madly fell for.

I hissed and slowly moved my faint hands through the group photo - from Dickson to Beatrice to Jim but I didn't frown - the old feeling of hatred was gone and now engulfed with a warm mutual feeling.

I saw Peculiar and sighed funnily with a Chuckle. I wondered.

The funniest part of Peculiar was that he was 8 months old and yet had the height of a 3 months old baby.

He wasn't growing in height at all. Just a short bossy baby.

Mother was forever occupied with her knitting project. Thanks to her, I didn't spend much when it comes to household wares. She knitted most of them.

I watched my use to be happy self and really wished I could turn back the hands of time and behave as if all was fine, okay, good, better. You just name it.

Kasey thought me to be holy as a dove but wise as a serpent. And I wasn't in case of peculiar.

I just wanted love - the affection a child would feel for his mother.

I took a second long stare at Peculiar and wished he would one day turn around and fall in love with me. Accept me as his Mom.

___________

Hi friends 💞

Hmmm.....I really feel for Jeanie. I think it's time for peculiar to turn good. You don't wanna miss the next chapter, trust me. Peculiar becomes a good child. Nancy is very happy but her mom isn't. Why?

By the way, I know my poem was funny 😂 give me a break, I'm not good at everything 😭😍.

Please don't forget to SVC. I love you all. Thanks💃.