October 15 Prompt: SubduedAncient

I don’t really know what I’m trying to accomplish or prove here. Just backtracking the previous prompts I’ve missed for the past week & trying my best to catch up. I’m still trying to survive migraine. Although I feel a little better now compared yesterday when I just felt like puking in the metro. The odor inside the congested train despite the heavy air conditioning made my situation worse. It started Thursday and here I am now on a Sunday morning, still feeling light-headed, a strike of imbalanced strain in my head. How long does this migraine want to stay with me? Was I not clear enough to imply that I want him out of my life? Jeezus. At least I can manage to type, thank God. Yesterday I could barely look at my screen longer than a minute, it was making me dizzy. I’m afraid if I force it, the world around will begin to spin and fade in black. What a fantastic way to start the week.

So Friday night was still tolerable. I managed to cook dinner and finish the remaining laundry. After shower I tried to run a couple of television series just to entertain myself. My eyes felt strained though just by staring at the brightness of my screen, although I’ve adjusted it according to my comfort level. In the middle of an episode of Last Man Standing – a family comedy that starred Tim Allen (Mike Baxter) and Nancy Travis (Vanessa Baxter), I surprisingly started sobbing. Like I said, it was a sitcom. Although there was always a bite of heartfelt scenes here and there in some EPs, it was very rare. It was normally just funny quips from the family members, engaging with regular family activities. I found myself crying in the middle of a scene between Vanessa Baxter trying to be funny with some seafood punchlines to her daughter Kirsten Baxter played by Amanda Fuller. I don’t know what in the world has gotten in to me again. This wasn’t the first time. It happened Thursday too when I felt really weak and migraine was starting. I also had a pain in my lower abdomen, which was probably just a sign of PMS. I was crying over the fact that I don’t have a mother anymore which is like close to being- ancient. I wasn’t really sure what triggered all that but I all of a sudden just missed her terribly. I don’t know if that feeling of lost ever goes away or it will just be right there at the corner and will always haunt me. I notice it appears so vividly and strong and persisting during my vulnerable moments like when I’m so sick or worried or hurt. It comes right through me. It reminds me that I am now alone. And that though I have Sam in my life {something I have always been thankful for}, a knight in shining armor, a hero, my personal nurse, my rescue mission, my bodyguard, I will always long for that kind of anchor that only mothers can give. The unconditional, unfailing love, loyalty and security that only they can provide.

So I cried a lot because I was missing her so much. I took the box of tissue and squeezed all the tears I can manage until my eyes swelled. I had to stay in my room for a half an hour for my eyes to at least look normal before I can rally back to the kitchen. My flatmates can be nosy and I wouldn’t want them to think I was having some relationship drama.

Sometimes when I close my eyes to sleep, I can see myself walking down the staircase and I will find her there. We were both young and have very little idea of what ten years would be like. She will be in her very simple house dress, usually in floral prints. She always has this face towel tucked at her back because she sweats a lot when cooking. And from the stairs, the aroma of the succulent milkfish, marinated with vinegar and garlic, would spread wildly and lure everyone to the kitchen.  And her very soft smile will light up the dining table as she gathers the plates and calls us in. I can still see her looking up at me waiting for me to reach the dining table, saying something I can hardly recall but for sure her voice was soothing and familiar.

And then I will be thrown away, back right here, in a flat in Dubai, ten years later, with a spatula in my hand fighting a grouchy cooking fat crackling in anger. I’m frying my own Milkfish, in a kitchen that isn’t mine nor my mother’s.

Sometimes I feel so lost. I don’t know anymore where home is…

Waking up with migraine, insecurities, anxieties and a bunch of other unhealthy shitty feelings, makes me want to revert back to 1995 when all I have to do is lie down in bed and tell mom I’m not going to school. I can simply shut the door and leave everything for her to handle.

Yeah. Life was that easy.


5 thoughts on “Milkfish

  1. I am so sorry you no longer have your mom. I don’t think we ever outgrow the need for our moms…..especially if they are the good sort of moms.
    I also feel very sorry that you have migraines. My son used to get those and it was terrible for him.
    I did find a good thing out from your post! I always wondered about going back and using older word prompts….now I know! I can.
    I hope you feel better very soon. Life is easier when you feel better.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes my mom is the good sort of mom. She did a lot of wonders when she was alive. 🙂 I’m feeling a little better today, although not as strong as normal. Sleep helped a lot. I will get more later after work. And yes migraines are terrible. There are no really rules for migraines although it can be prevented by eating healthy but science says it could be hereditary (mutations from specific genes. errr) or simply an effect for upcoming periods (another errr lols). Anyway, thanks for dropping by again. Your words are always comforting. And about the prompts, sure you can always use the prompts you’ve missed. It’s a waste not to 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Grief can be very tangible…my mom still cries sometimes when she talks about my grandmother…the only thing I can say is that I hope when these times come, that the happy memories you have with you mom will prove a comfort to you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes I have plenty of good memories. Although a little grainy, old and sometimes fading. They were all happy ones. 🙂 Thank you for your kind words Marie.

      Liked by 1 person

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