| Biographical Non-Fiction posted November 27, 2023 | Chapters: |
...10 10 -11- 12... 
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Will it drop or stay with the mate.
A chapter in the book Spectre
The Shoe
by Lea Tonin1
The future's road is cracked and long.
Every turn a fatal wrong.
Weakness thrown corded strong.
Burn the mayhems bitter song.
Seek the peace a natures brew.
Toss the beasts malevolent stew.
Smash the rock its head will do.
Your evil fate no longer true.
There is no change without change.
So push and pull this freedoms range.
************************************
present
The sun has not risen yet... Sleeping in again, I see. Lazy ball of yellow.
I look outside and see a thick bank of fog enveloping my home weaving around it like a ceremonial dance.
Fog happens when the ground or water is warmer than the air.
This particular fog has been here for the last few mornings.
Expectantly, it tickles its way around with long vaporous fingers. Like a slow moving pick pocket always short of its prize.
I walked quickly up the cold steps and into the house proper seeking the comforts of that aromatic brew visiting my nose.
Listening to the coffee percolate, some old memories flitted across my mind, the very earliest ones. These glimpses of what was we're connected to something I learned just yesterday.
It was around the time my my natural father and mother split up.
My mother said my father didn't believe I was his child and that was why he left me behind and took my sister instead.
A lie concocted by my mother of course. The truth was my mother didn't want two babies around. She made up an elaborate excuse about not being able to care for two children and go to work.
My sister was then passed to my grandparents on my father's side. Then after that, she was passed on to an aunt and uncle on my father's side. After that, she was picked up by my father and he brought her to my mother's house as arranged.
No one was home because, of course, mother didn't meet him as she promised.
One version says he left her there, abandoned on the porch where anything could've happened to her. The other version says he waited for a long, long time.
Either way, such selfishness playing with the lives of babies. Like little stuffed dolls, they passed around for different people to play with.
I feel like going out and kickin' some ass!!
I nice pile of documents and other paperwork documenting my life from the perspective of the adults in the family and the staff of Social services.
I was warned not to go through these documents alone. Some items are quite traumatic and so I haven't yet.
Still trying to figure out what, where and when.
Coffee's ready and it's time to get to work.
Time to send my mind back again and take all of you with me down the track of my memory.
Time for the next turn of the iron wheel....
***************************Past
We pulled up into the driveway of an older, split level home. Red on top and gyprock on the bottom, random colored pieces of glass squinting in the sun.
A very dark man wearing a turban came out the front door to greet his wife.
He looked at me with a slightly startled expression on his face then quickly replaced it with narrowed black eyes.
I knew that look. I hoped I didn't see it. My heart skipped a beat. Paranoia...fun fun fun.
What seemed like rapid fire conversation began between them.
Her husband flapping his hands in the air while she dismissed him with a wave.
She gestured to me and we proceeded into the house. The two children followed smiling shyly at me so I gave them the peace sign. They mimicked the gesture between themselves, laughed and ran into the house as we followed.
We were greeted with the pungent smells of Indian cooking. Scents of jasmine rice, bread (nan), curry and garlic chicken.
I tried my best to ignore my growling stomach and followed the wife into the kitchen. By the stove was an older Indian lady I assumed was grandmother stirring a burnt orange colored type of sauce.
"Joo hungry? She asked,"Sit."
I sat as she asked and introduced me to her family. I introduced myself while the grandmother or old mother as they put it, smiled kindly at me while serving food.
Her husband merely grunted when given my name. The two children whispered in each others ear, looked at me and a new round of giggling started.
Mr. D, the father, made a sharp guttural sound. The children quieted down to eat. On the table old mother served a large bowl of rice, a kind of flat bread as well as chicken sitting in the odd colored sauce.
It was delicious! I've never had food like that before! I ate as much as my stomach could take!
When the meal was over the women went to clean up. I stood up with them.
The muscles beneath my skin began to slowly twist. I was sure I feeling intense gaze of Mr. D.
I was tired, drained and full. I'm sure was just all that I've been through the last few days.
My hypervigilance has been on alert for too long. This was the reason for feeling suspicious and jumpy.
Mrs. D waived me back to my seat. I sat quietly while Mr. D watched me out of the corner of his eye.
He made me feel nervous as if a jack-in-the-box was about to spring!
Just tired, you need to get some rest, that's all.
The two ladies finished up. Mrs. D gestured for me to follow her down the stairs and into the lower level of the house.
We entered into a room which looked like it was once a kitchen but now looked more like a hybrid of kitchen and laundry room. To my right, an entrance to a small living room. In that room was a very old couch and an ancient black and white TV. Beside the living room was a door to another small room. It was empty but, resembled a regular bedroom.
"Joo can stay down here." She said. "We talk later. Jess?"
"Thank you so much," I said with tears in my eyes. "I really appreciate this."
She smiled kindly and left me in the small living room. I picked up my plastic bag of clothes and placed them in the empty room. I then turned the big knob on the old TV which surprisingly worked!
An old movie played. "The African Queen" with Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn.
I kept the volume low and sat down on the old couch. It was as hard as cement.
Seemed like it had fossilized over the years. Despite this I began to nodd off. The world of deep sleep enveloped me once more and I slipped away.
Some hours later I awoke to what sounded like a big argument.
Mr D's voice loud while Mrs. D spoke at a low volume.
"Please God, let this not be another mistake. Just let this be for now."
"Let me catch my breath...please."
***************************Present
How I hated the feeling of shaky ground beneath my feet.
At any time an earthquake could come then liquifaction would occur to swallow me whole.
To be honest, though, I've had that feeling my whole life at different times, at different events.
But yes, that's always been with me.
Today I feel a little more introspective. Having years of knowledge and experience come to the foreground, I'm able to make sense of much of it. In this comes understanding and of this knowledge sometimes brings forgiveness or at the very least, a ceasefire. Not the case here.
But that is another days wind.
Another fragile idea that floats like fluffy seeds on a spring breeze.
Next time...I am the wind.
The future's road is cracked and long.
Every turn a fatal wrong.
Weakness thrown corded strong.
Burn the mayhems bitter song.
Seek the peace a natures brew.
Toss the beasts malevolent stew.
Smash the rock its head will do.
Your evil fate no longer true.
There is no change without change.
So push and pull this freedoms range.
************************************
present
The sun has not risen yet... Sleeping in again, I see. Lazy ball of yellow.
I look outside and see a thick bank of fog enveloping my home weaving around it like a ceremonial dance.
Fog happens when the ground or water is warmer than the air.
This particular fog has been here for the last few mornings.
Expectantly, it tickles its way around with long vaporous fingers. Like a slow moving pick pocket always short of its prize.
I walked quickly up the cold steps and into the house proper seeking the comforts of that aromatic brew visiting my nose.
Listening to the coffee percolate, some old memories flitted across my mind, the very earliest ones. These glimpses of what was we're connected to something I learned just yesterday.
It was around the time my my natural father and mother split up.
My mother said my father didn't believe I was his child and that was why he left me behind and took my sister instead.
A lie concocted by my mother of course. The truth was my mother didn't want two babies around. She made up an elaborate excuse about not being able to care for two children and go to work.
My sister was then passed to my grandparents on my father's side. Then after that, she was passed on to an aunt and uncle on my father's side. After that, she was picked up by my father and he brought her to my mother's house as arranged.
No one was home because, of course, mother didn't meet him as she promised.
One version says he left her there, abandoned on the porch where anything could've happened to her. The other version says he waited for a long, long time.
Either way, such selfishness playing with the lives of babies. Like little stuffed dolls, they passed around for different people to play with.
I feel like going out and kickin' some ass!!
I nice pile of documents and other paperwork documenting my life from the perspective of the adults in the family and the staff of Social services.
I was warned not to go through these documents alone. Some items are quite traumatic and so I haven't yet.
Still trying to figure out what, where and when.
Coffee's ready and it's time to get to work.
Time to send my mind back again and take all of you with me down the track of my memory.
Time for the next turn of the iron wheel....
***************************Past
We pulled up into the driveway of an older, split level home. Red on top and gyprock on the bottom, random colored pieces of glass squinting in the sun.
A very dark man wearing a turban came out the front door to greet his wife.
He looked at me with a slightly startled expression on his face then quickly replaced it with narrowed black eyes.
I knew that look. I hoped I didn't see it. My heart skipped a beat. Paranoia...fun fun fun.
What seemed like rapid fire conversation began between them.
Her husband flapping his hands in the air while she dismissed him with a wave.
She gestured to me and we proceeded into the house. The two children followed smiling shyly at me so I gave them the peace sign. They mimicked the gesture between themselves, laughed and ran into the house as we followed.
We were greeted with the pungent smells of Indian cooking. Scents of jasmine rice, bread (nan), curry and garlic chicken.
I tried my best to ignore my growling stomach and followed the wife into the kitchen. By the stove was an older Indian lady I assumed was grandmother stirring a burnt orange colored type of sauce.
"Joo hungry? She asked,"Sit."
I sat as she asked and introduced me to her family. I introduced myself while the grandmother or old mother as they put it, smiled kindly at me while serving food.
Her husband merely grunted when given my name. The two children whispered in each others ear, looked at me and a new round of giggling started.
Mr. D, the father, made a sharp guttural sound. The children quieted down to eat. On the table old mother served a large bowl of rice, a kind of flat bread as well as chicken sitting in the odd colored sauce.
It was delicious! I've never had food like that before! I ate as much as my stomach could take!
When the meal was over the women went to clean up. I stood up with them.
The muscles beneath my skin began to slowly twist. I was sure I feeling intense gaze of Mr. D.
I was tired, drained and full. I'm sure was just all that I've been through the last few days.
My hypervigilance has been on alert for too long. This was the reason for feeling suspicious and jumpy.
Mrs. D waived me back to my seat. I sat quietly while Mr. D watched me out of the corner of his eye.
He made me feel nervous as if a jack-in-the-box was about to spring!
Just tired, you need to get some rest, that's all.
The two ladies finished up. Mrs. D gestured for me to follow her down the stairs and into the lower level of the house.
We entered into a room which looked like it was once a kitchen but now looked more like a hybrid of kitchen and laundry room. To my right, an entrance to a small living room. In that room was a very old couch and an ancient black and white TV. Beside the living room was a door to another small room. It was empty but, resembled a regular bedroom.
"Joo can stay down here." She said. "We talk later. Jess?"
"Thank you so much," I said with tears in my eyes. "I really appreciate this."
She smiled kindly and left me in the small living room. I picked up my plastic bag of clothes and placed them in the empty room. I then turned the big knob on the old TV which surprisingly worked!
An old movie played. "The African Queen" with Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn.
I kept the volume low and sat down on the old couch. It was as hard as cement.
Seemed like it had fossilized over the years. Despite this I began to nodd off. The world of deep sleep enveloped me once more and I slipped away.
Some hours later I awoke to what sounded like a big argument.
Mr D's voice loud while Mrs. D spoke at a low volume.
"Please God, let this not be another mistake. Just let this be for now."
"Let me catch my breath...please."
***************************Present
How I hated the feeling of shaky ground beneath my feet.
At any time an earthquake could come then liquifaction would occur to swallow me whole.
To be honest, though, I've had that feeling my whole life at different times, at different events.
But yes, that's always been with me.
Today I feel a little more introspective. Having years of knowledge and experience come to the foreground, I'm able to make sense of much of it. In this comes understanding and of this knowledge sometimes brings forgiveness or at the very least, a ceasefire. Not the case here.
But that is another days wind.
Another fragile idea that floats like fluffy seeds on a spring breeze.
Next time...I am the wind.
 Recognized |
This story is part of an autobio called Spectre book 2 of a 3 part series book 1 is called Ghost. Both books can be found in my portfolio. If you wish to read. Please also note, some chapters are hard to digest. Reader discretion is advised.
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