The wind blows, brushing my cheeks and shoulders, hair flies over my eyes unveiling rays of sunlight that brightly illuminate the clear blue sky. Dearest Mother, are you shining your rays to guide me?
The palm tree dances in the distant and birds flutter their wings across the deep blue sea. How do you move, I wonder. Are you fluttering your wings up above me? Or are you floating like cloudy smoke?
The waves roll over the beach with a roar, sweeping away the golden sand grains, just like you were swept away.
Mirror, Mirror on the wall, where oh where is Mother’s soul?
We pretend that you are in a better place right now because you are no longer suffering bodily, but what about mentally? Are you suffering from mental trouble? It’s easier to pretend that soul no longer feels. She doesn’t get angry that she can no longer taste deliciously appetizing food. Nor does she long for an ice-cold beer as she watches the waves of the sea sweep up the beach to touch my toes as I sit on the sand sipping my beer. She isn’t disappointed that she can no longer feel the waves splashing against her body as she swims in the sea. Mother, was always a fantastic swimmer. She bravely and energetically swam across to the other side of the pier, so far that she was invisible to the eye of those on the beach. Today, rather than swim she watched me swim across the deep blue sea, frantically looking for her soul yet enjoying sensational seclusion, a skill Mother had acquired and graciously passed down onto me.
Neither a mirror or thermometer, nor a microphone or hydrophone will allow me to measure how you feel. An emotionometer is what I need.
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