BLINK

A short essay/story/memoir/???

BLINK


Blink. I'm a carefree 10-year-old, riding a pony through our alfalfa fields, unknowing of any evil in the world and oblivious to the good fortune I have to be raised on this farm by loving parents. I'm just enjoying the sunshine, and then in the middle of the night, it's exciting to get up and help my mother and older sister open the irrigation gates to water the crops. On Sunday, I sneak off to attend church with my friend, where I'm the only white person in attendance. The passion in the gospel singing speaks to me.

Blink. Carefree childhood vanishes and is replaced by the seriousness of a religious cult. I'm trying to do the right thing to please God but I'm constantly told I'm unworthy. Is this really true? I begin to lose the ability to laugh. The world is in the midst of the Vietnam War, and a couple of the men in our church who were drafted come back... different, shell-shocked. What happened to them? Is the world ending? An arranged marriage leaves me constantly afraid I am simply a consolation prize for my husband, who really wanted someone else. I work hard on subjugating my will to his, to the preacher's, to God's. I'm waiting for Armageddon.

Blink. A light shimmers at the end of the proverbial tunnel when I give birth to my son. Sunshine and roses are everywhere, reflected in his smile. When he's just one year old, our little family is able to leave the cult and begin life again, even though that eventually means a painful divorce. I'm terrified I'm not good enough a parent even as I rejoice at being one.

Blink. Climbing up Thunderbird Mountain with my son. Going to the zoo. Drawing with him on the kitchen floor. Attending games, recitals, graduations. Taking him to Disney Land. Singing "Good Morning Sunshine" to him every day as he wakes up.

Blink. Love finds me again in the person of my second husband. He notes that I enjoy helping other people, but often let them walk over me in the process. With the patience of a saint and straight-as-an-arrow moral ethics, he helps me grow into someone who can begin to asseverate without losing myself in the process. I begin to laugh again, despite churning political tensions worldwide. My stepchildren, though grown, graciously accept me into their lives. Step-grandchildren are born, and though I rarely get to spend time with them, I am thrilled that I can be a grandma even if it's by “proxy.”

Blink. Shortly after 9-11-2001, my son joins the Air Force and is deployed to a war zone. I research relentlessly to discover what he is going through because he won't tell me, but somehow I never lose faith that he will come home safely. I help establish an organization to support deployed troops by sending them care packages. Even when our living room is chock full of volunteers and donated items to send to soldiers, my husband supports and helps me.

Blink. I'm walking down the aisle, being seated at my son's wedding. My joy is exceeded only by the joy I felt when he was born. He's home safely from the war, has a good job, and has fallen in love with a woman I'd love to have as my daughter. Years later they find they are unable to have children, but it doesn't matter. I feel blessed to have them in my life.

Blink. I'm retired. That sounds so strange, so foreign. Both my parents have died. It's still an empty spot in my heart.

Blink. I'm almost 70 years old. Looking at my own mortality, I fear I have very little to say for my life. What have I done? To what extent did I make this a better world? Was I good enough of a mom in spite of my fears? A good enough wife? Step-mom? Mother-in-law? Citizen? The world seems in such a turmoil, so much strife and political bitterness. Is there any hope for the future?

Blink. My daughter-in-law comes over for a visit and confides that she and my son are going to adopt.  I begin to weep with joy and hope.

Blink.

- - - - - - - - -

By Susan Walker
2/12/2019

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