BLURRED LINES.

Page 131.

The last sentence, “…[Kya] searched for an explanation of why a mother would leave her offspring.”

I closed the book and put my head back. Thought of my own mother and her current absence.

A few months ago, I would have simply passed that last sentence on page 131 as if it were like all the others.  However, as I’ve been taking inventory on my life and schedule, focusing on eliminating hurry, I’ve been allowing myself to linger. It seems that lingering is the antithesis of hurrying. So, instead of pushing past the moment, I decided to pause.

That one little sentence evoked a longing to search for understanding. Questions fill my mind: does she ever think of me? If she does, how often and what does she feel? Are there mixed emotions or one that dominates?

It seems almost impossible to think she might actually miss me!

All evidence seems to confirm the impossibility; it has been almost five years since the last text message. I don’t even remember when the last time I saw her was, but I do remember it was short and ended as it usually did: she was angry and I was sad.

As I lingered, paused, and considered, my eyes began to blur. Much to my surprise, I was crying. Silent and soft tears of buried ignored sadness. I’m not ready to fully confess all the thoughts and feelings that stirred, but I know it was right to fight the urge to hurry.