Tides

Millions of butterflies soared gently in the twilight of her mind. Relentless movement. Swish and swoosh. Warm, comforting. Unlike the people around her. Cold, distant. They too moved around swiftly. There was no pause. Stillness was her own. Frozen in her wheelchair as the world flowed by in undue haste. People were caught up in the web of doing. This to finish, that to plan. No time to just be. She had ample time. But her mind was just as busy. There was no rest there. Neither peace nor clarity. How could one exist without the other? Cute little babies, giggling while swinging to and fro. Then the darkness descended. She was drowning in it. She struggled to move her fingers. The mind and body were disconnected. There was no cord to pull her back into the realm of the living. She willed with every inch of her being. A small flutter of the little finger. This was precious. She was making contact. Words of euphoria waited impatiently to spill out of her mind into the vibrations of sounds. But they never escaped the prison of her vocal cords stiffened by Parkinson’s. A familiar figure appeared in the periphery. “Syndopa,” he whispered. This was the elixir of motion that this angel had come to administer. She opened her mouth and gulped the pill down. Redemption was near. For a while her fingers and feet would find their way out of their fetters. Desires could be voiced. Attention demanded. Her soul could manifest its authentic colours and paint heartily a vibrant picture in the world of people and doing. She could be heard. She could stir another’s heart and mind. Her thirst for life was indomitable. She was not willing to recede into the void. She could still make waves in the pool of life and land of the living. But one day, the elixir would cease to enervate her. One day, the waters of her life would become still forever. She wouldn’t think about that now. Not yet.