Life In A Full Circle

Sharda Mishra posted under Flash Fiction QuinTale-47 on 2022-12-23

I sat down to teach myself how to design, cut, and stitch dresses. I became a tailor. I sewed clothes not just for living, but also to mend my soul. Sewing became a part of my everyday life. I was very good at what I did, but sometimes I was a disaster, too. I also did a myriad of other things. I made my house into a home, cooked, cleaned, assembled furniture made babies, and took care of them. My kitchen was the space where I enjoyed my creativity and solace. I saw beauty and passion in every corner of it. I bent low over stacks of spent breakfast ware. I stared contemplatively at the rainbow-colored soap suds. Each bubble acted like a prism, breaking up the pristine white light into multiple colors, like the chakras – red, green, orange, and blue. I smiled. I was content. I was appreciative of what I had. Then my children took over the reins. They also became experts in how to design, cut, and stitch dresses. My life went on smoothly.  My children were available to me all the time — financially, emotionally, and physically. Then old age set in, gradually and gracefully. While I admired my white hair as a sign of maturity and wore my wrinkles with pride, I wasn’t too happy with my subtle memory loss. The creativity in my sewing also suffered because of my mental deterioration. I forgot how to design, cut, and stitch clothes.  Self-sufficiency eventually turned into dependency. I felt like a rock slowly sinking to the bottom of the sea. But life must go on. My little birds grew up and left the nest to build their own. I became an empty nester.  Letting go of pieces of my own heart was painful. Yet there was lots of joy and celebration in spite of the pain. My children settled down in their life. They were independent and happy, just what I had strived for them — every mother’s desire. My life’s extra baggage was unloaded. The slate became clean and fresh. But with my children gone, my life became melancholic and lonely.  My mental memory data for everything became scant. The emptiness made my breathing easier, but life felt dull.  As I aged, I moved towards nothingness. It had been foolish of me to pile up useless expectations. I decided not to participate in negativity. I didn’t want to lose control of my inner peace.  So I chose light over darkness to veil my life’s impermanence. I was left with no choice. I chose happiness over sadness to change my destiny. I began to convince myself that trying is better than giving up. I had to find my strength.  I had to relearn what I had forgotten.  To live. To survive.  I did the same thing, I had done years ago. I sat down to teach myself how to design, cut, and stitch clothes.   Penmancy gets a small share of every purchase you make through these links, and every little helps us continue bringing you the reads you love!