Killing time

So what should I do to pass the time? How do I distract myself from the anxious thoughts that are crawling in my stomach as I await to hear the news of the results? I tried scrolling but that didn’t do it. Watching TV during the day is just depressing. I could go for a walk and count how many birds I see. Note the different colors of their wings. Try to find the green parrots hiding in the palm trees. My daughter is napping and this should be a welcomed break. I should be taking the opportunity to work on my book. But depending how this news goes that book may not be happening right now. I don’t think I could juggle that and a toddler while helping my mom through chemo.

So instead I just sit on the couch. Rubbing my feet together as I stare at the ceiling fan envious of its ability to spin around without getting dizzy. I am so tired of life tossing me around. I want some ease and peace for a moment. I’m still mourning my niece. I’m not ready for another person to grieve. For this chapter in my memoir. The mom gets sick and needs care is supposed to be a few chapters away. I haven’t even gotten to finish writing the one about her being a grandmother. Mimi has more babysitting to do.

We’re supposed to find out today or tomorrow. You’d think with such news they’d be more specific. If they’re going to tell you have cancer there should be more precise about the time. Expect a call from us on Monday at 12:17pm. Not this bullshit 3 to 5 business days like it’s some package you’re waiting on. How am I expected to hold my breath for so long? How can I fill in the seconds of possibly another day?

Even chasing around my daughter isn’t distracting enough. Instead it just makes me sad. Imagining a world where her Mimi isn’t there. Will she remember her? How she squills with just the sight of her face. Put her hands up so that she could pick her up. That she preferred her Mimi to feed her breakfast over mama or dada. The way she’d fall asleep on her lap as they swayed together on the rocking chair. Will she remember all these things? Cause I really need her to. I need her to never forget how much she loves her.

I forgot how much I loved my grandmother. I can barely remember her face. I have no idea about the sound of her voice. But apparently she was my favorite. She’d spoil me with fruit and kisses. I wish I still remember the sweetness of her touch and what words she whispered in my ear. Did she have hopes for me? Did I fulfill all she desired? What a cruelty time can be. What we don’t remember and what we don’t know. Two anxious knots tightening in my body keeping me tied to the unknown. A constant unease of what I can’t control.

As I write this there still no word on my mother’s biopsy results. At least I haven’t heard from her yet. Could it be that she knows but is shielding me from the answer? Are these actually my last few moments of peace? Should I savior the final pages of this chapter? Slowly reading each word. Is this my last moments as a daughter before I transition into the role of caretaker? Maybe I was wrong to rush the results. Take your time. Let me live in this space where there is hope, that it is just a lump.