This is the missing jigsaw piece of my puzzle, but somehow I feel nothing. I just feel an emptiness larger than before the day that I woke up and discovered the two people I called Mum and Dad weren’t really that at all. I thought this visit would cure me, soothe me, but somehow it has filled me with more confusion than ever before.
How can that be?
I feel intimidated, overwhelmed. The lights are too bright, buildings too tall, heart too shattered to ever forgive, never enough to call the unspoken woman of 14 years Mum. Such a strong word, Mum, stronger than the glow of the screens advertising Chanel and Dior, reminding me of my Mum at home in London, flat number 13, collapsing on her ruffled bed in sobs, for fear of losing her only daughter.
I want to go back to Mum and Dad and Rufus my dog. I keep reminding myself “I am home”, but I have always been terrible at convincing myself. I just want to run, run from my fear, run from the woman, run from myself, run from the lights. The lights strike daggers through my heart and stop me from escaping.
One call away.
One call away from Annie, begging for her to take me away, away from this………place, away from my “Mum”, away from the lights. I have to choke back my tears or else I know I will cry. I remember what my Mum had taught me whenever I’m nervous or upset, to take deep breaths and think of a place I’d rather be. I know exactly where I’d rather be and I burst into tears, my shoulders sagging and my head in my hands.
Just a cup of tea.
And a chat and then I can go home. I just have questions I need answering, hearts that need mending and lights that need to be switched off.