#176 - For Being She

It was perhaps the only point of realisation she had in her entire life.

Where the dream-like wonderment and amazement crashed to a halt. Her world seemed to stop as it all dawned upon her. As sun beams would hit the shivering body of a new-born for the very first time. It all seemed so new. So startling. That she had never known, realised or recognised.

She had yet to accurately pinpoint the source of her discovery. Or, the exact knowledge she had just gleaned. It had just happened. One mid-afternoon, as she sat in the car, on the way to some oft-gone place, as the drizzle melted into glass and aluminium.

She just knew what she felt.

Yet, she feared. For her life, her routine, the motions she went through everyday. For the relationship linking her to the now missed wonderment and amazement her childish state experienced as she uncovered the joys of the day for every one else. It was a deep-rooted fear she could not shake, something which she so badly wanted to do. It was the unknown, the strange, the fear of the fear, of change, of the new. She did not want it. She just wanted what she knew.

This was what she knew.

She thought to the past. Where the signs, symptoms, hints and rumours all seemed oh-so-true. Then the wonder came back. How could she have not recognised, and missed it all? Was it true? What was she supposed to do about this now? Was it too late. She supposed it was. Now that everything she had just learned about had up and left her. Left her too early. And she, learned only just too late.

It was her first taste of regret. It was tangy.

Then came the wash of sadness. Glazing over her eyes. But the tears did not happen. They were stuck at the back of her sockets, waiting. Waiting and dancing their gleeful dance of suffering. It hurt. That was new as well. Now that she supposed it was her fault. It had to be her fault. All her fault. For realising too late. For learning too late. For not recognising. For missing it all.

For being she.