Little Miss Wonder

OUTSIDE


Ever walked down a street swept along with the crowd and not felt a connection with any of them? I think each and every one of you reading this has felt it at some point. Well I feel it. I feel it every moment, every hour, every day, every week, year after year. There may have been a time way back when that I must have been just like them. I must have felt a part of it. I just can't remember. I try and summon all my memory but I can never quite catch it in my mind. It escapes me and it almost drives me to madness. Today I walked through the park as I do every day. An old man with a dog passed me. I smiled at him and bent down to fuss the animal, but he carried on walking like they always do. The dog didn't ignore me. It snarled and snapped and let out a low, threatening growl in my direction.

I don't understand.


The only memory I do possess is of a woman. It is my one and only memory and I cherish it. I know I loved her. If I try extra hard, really concentrate, the image is nearly within my reach. Eyes the colours of ashes look down on me. She is smiling. I rerun this memory through my head like a well-worn video cassette. It's faded. Disintegrated. I always pause it at her smile.


Although I know I must be different from others I still feel the need to be with them. My favourite time to walk is under the cloak of night. I like the energy of noise and the bright lights and evening faces. I just walk and soak up the voices, the music and the smells. It makes me feel a part of it all, that connection I mentioned before I guess you could say. Then the world starts to crawl from the darkness. I hear the drone of the milk float and I let it ride my mind. Another morning, another day and then another night. Time is a funny thing. I observe people rushing about. I hear them complain how they haven't enough time but I have all the time in the world.

I don't understand.


I am frightened. I feel the anxiety descending like a thick fog. There is softness all around me. I rerun this memory through my head like a well-worn video cassette. It's faded. Disintegrated. I always pause at her smile.


I'm feeling very weary. It's like I'm in slow motion. My legs seem to drag as if they're wading through unseen quicksand. I've been dreaming of sleep. Every day I walk through the park with lines of trees and an old, crumbling arch. I walk past a church with colourful eyes of stained glass and a towering steeple. I walk down a street full of houses set out in rows like dominoes. I stand outside and look through windows and I see snapshots of life being lived through the peeling frames. They all exist in a big, glass bubble but the bubble is frosted and cracked. Everything is blurred. Sometimes I watch children playing in the gardens. I can hear their carefree laughter and I try so hard to force my hand through the bubble and touch that moment. I never can though. I'm tired of walking and watching. I want to stop but I can't. I ain't got the power anymore. I am lost.

I don't understand.


I see her. I see her face. I see wide, wild eyes looking down on me. It's not faded anymore. I remember now. I see my Mother smile as she forces the pillow over my face. She is still smiling as the softness surrounds me. It is my one and only memory and I cherish it.


Hours, days, weeks and years go by being swept along with the crowd. It's all deranged. No control.

But now I understand why I am forever on the outside.


Little Miss Wonder.
18 March 2004.