Happy. Cheerful. Never miserable. That’s what they thought. I
know they did. A shop keeper with a loving family and always full of life.
Giving advice that always helps people. I do it to get rid of them. To stop any
social contact around me. Stop the agonising questions like, “How is he?”, “Oh
he’s so brave” and “You’re so strong to look after him.” They think they know
us, know me. Affectionate relationship with an injured husband. Ha!
Affectionate? More like trapped. I became trapped the day I married him. I only
had children to please my mother. I married him for my mother too. Now she’s
gone and left me, what am I supposed to do? Stay here?
She left me the day she became ill. Every day after that was
just fate taunting me about how my life has been and will go. I was happy- well
almost. When she told me she hadn’t had much longer to live, I was confused.
‘Why? There’s nothing wrong with her.’ Even just before she went I thought
she’d get better. That’s why the odd phone call from my apparently upset sister confused me.
“Mum’s died.”
“What? No she hasn’t.” I thought. She did though. And the
worst part? Is that she was with
her. My, what I can only call related to due to DNA, sister was with her. Why
was she allowed to be with her and support her in her last moments, when for
the last 3 years whilst our mother was ill, she was off gallivanting about in
Australia.
We were close when we were younger, inseparable in fact. Then
the big 1-8 came along; she had her own life to live. That’s what she said, when
she went. It was only meant to be a year travelling the world before she went
to University. Truthfully she did come back a year later and go to Uni. Nevertheless,
she decided it wasn’t for her and left after a month. My mum looked like she
was fine with it but I knew. I knew she wasn’t happy, and so neither was I. She
was supposed to be an older sister and be there for me when I needed her. But
she wasn’t. She was away and would only occasionally answer her phone to speak
to me.
I could have been different, lived a different life that had
different outcomes. I could be like my sister. No husband, no children. Nothing
to hold me down. Travelling the world with my friends and making new ones on
the way. Learning new skills; having only few possessions, which is good
because it won’t be pulling me to the ground.
To the ground.
It’s funny really, to the ground. Eventually we’ll all be
under it. 6ft under and gone. What would it be like? Your own personal heaven...or
hell. Either way we’d be free. Free from the stresses of everyday life. Wouldn’t
that be just amazing? No troubles, no worries. Perfect, right?
But I’m stuck, stuck in a life. In a world.
A convincing and engaging voice. It needs a little more work on how the language reflects the theme - it really takes it to another level when she uses the metaphor of being pulled to (and under) the ground - could that be extended further, somehow e.g. words from that lexical field throughout and some play on 'gravity' or similar? Especially in the title, which has to hook the audience. Beautifully punctuated - most impressive.
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