Quiet

I woke up after a few hours of disturbed sleep, and took myself to the library in an attempt to get some work done. There is little progress, but at least there is progress. Every word, every sentence one step closer to the end of this long and seemingly endless journey to finish my thesis, finish something I began two years ago, but only made halting progress.

In the evening, I got together with friends I had not seen for a while. It feels like forever, especially as a friend was away for a number of weeks. I missed the evenings chatting away and laughing, sharing our lives over drinks and bags of chips when we would ask one another about going-ons in our lives.

"How is your mother?" I froze, and went quiet. I stared into the distance, eyes watering, knowing full well what had been asked but not knowing what I should reply. Do I lie or do I just answer with a simple "alright" and let the difficult, difficult question pass? My eyes became a little moist and I looked away. My friends understood from my silence that something was not well. They extended their toes to touch me, to comfort me. I withdraw and went quiet. The quiet, the silence, not having to think about things, not having to talk about things do not make things go away. They do make things disappear from my mind temporarily so I can fill my mind with distractions and make myself believe that things are alright.

A friend asked about plans in the coming period, whether my mum is going to go visit the baby in Europe. There is an open ticket for her return, but who knows whether she can make the trip... who knows what treatments she may have to undergo... who knows what her health or condition will be tomorrow, next week, let alone next month or next year?

I changed the subject, smiled, and let the topic drop. My ex offered to talk and spend the night together. But I was not in the mood, and quietly left...