It’s hard to say goodbye, it’s hard to let go, it’s hard to leave everything you know.

You know who you are,

Let’s not think about tomorrow. Let’s just focus on today. The future has always been a gamble so let’s strip away all the doubt and all the fear and adopt a rather clinical approach, steeped in logic when we look at our future.  We have the benefit of sharing a long and winding past, where each tomorrow was saturated in uncertainty. The sum of all those ‘tomorrows' that first arrived as ‘todays’ and then almost effortlessly became our ‘yesterdays’, wove the tapestry of our past. The beauty of hindsight is revealed in the simple fact that we survived the anxiety and uncertainty of those ‘tomorrows’ together. We bravely took control as they morphed into ‘today’ and felt a sense of collective achievement as we looked back on all our ‘yesterdays’. The fact is that we survived them all, side by side, they best way we knew how.

For someone who is instinctively wired to be responsive and proactive, blessed with innate foresight, I find it quite ironic that you were the one to gift me with the lesson of being wholly present in every lapsing moment. You opened my eyes to so many things:

The Kiss

• You showed me not to view time as a mortal enemy; one which runs on the currency of anxiety and seems impossible to control.
• You taught me not to devalue the current moment by focusing too intently on a future, corrupt with elaborate scenarios. Wasting energy on hypothetical situations when I could instead invest that same energy into appreciating the now – relishing in the abandon of the moment.
• You showed me that I had a choice. I could choose to view the relentless pace of the clock’s hands differently. You taught me that it’s okay to take a seemingly illogical approach to the passing of time and militantly proclaim that I’m not running out of time and that our time does not have to be dictated by mechanical gears and brass cogs or the faint sound of seconds ticking by.
• You taught me that it’s too easy to be lured into an apathetic state where the alluring guise of a countdown appears too easy to accept when in reality, all it really is, is defeatist resignation. That by counting down the days, not only was I displacing my responsibility but that I was also releasing what control I had over the situation at hand.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “We acquire the strength we overcome.” On the laurels of this quote alone, you should take comfort that we've beaten the odds and succeeded – we have years filled with memories as a testament to this. So in the same way that you gave me the gift of appreciating the present, I want to remind you of the lesson you taught me. 

It’s not about running out of time or feeling like we have all the time in the world – it’s about making the most of the time we have. I’ll even be as bold as saying that we should pretend that time doesn’t exist. Because if we remove the concept of time and it’s hold over our lives, if we don’t allow ourselves to get trapped between those twelve foreboding numerals, all we are left with are moments. Moments in themselves are devoid of expectations, wants and needs. By their very nature they are honest, advertising nothing more or less than what they have to offer. 

So remember that this is where we exist; this is where we dominate – in this very moment.

I love you eternally, (the irony of this statement is not lost on me given the context)

Your Wife

So, there are a few things I don’t believe in:

1.      Diamonds

2.      Family

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t doubt their existence, but I sure as hell don’t promote their ideals. In my mind’s eye, they leave behind them nothing but a path of false ideals of value, pain, suffering, guilt and a clear distinction between those who “ have” and those who “have not”. Now I’m not suggesting you adopt any of the above philosophies as your own, but I think it necessary for me to bring them to light, set the foundations and impart (my) frame of reference in order for you to understand the gravity and significance of my latest ramblings….as stated below.

 An open (and most likely undelivered ) letter to my Momaschnu…

MOMMY!!!!!!!

Now that I’ve got  your attention, Ol’ Lady, I’d like to set the record straight.

I f*cking, totally, TOTALLY love you! (#mftotes). I’m glad that I share your genetic make-up (and predispositions for a vast array of medical conditions- not forgetting insanity) and that you’re MY mommy.  I know I’m not the easiest pigeon of your pair- but thank you.

 Thank you for teaching me how to worship the sun, to blow bubbles and making me understand that my two legs can carry me anywhere. Thank you for making me experience the bone chilling fear that runs rampant within in me, whenever you drive. No motor vehicle will have the satisfaction of me driving it.

Thank you for saying “NO” to Spice Girls shoes and blessing me with the metabolism of a tweaked-out gerbil. So even though, I’ve inherited your goldfish memory/ attention span and your indulgent flair for panic….I still want to impart my gratitude, because I must declare that these “inadequacies” are best suited to the likes of us.

Thank you for instilling in me a hyper-exaggerated hatred of cellulite and for teaching me how to appreciate an ice cold beer and how never to drink rum on a boat. For cheering me up with Naked Mexican’s when I’m sad. And although, Darth Vader shows more affection to his offspring than you could ever possibly muster up- I still totally love you. Besides, I know hugs would be much too awkward for the both of us. Thank you for teaching me to always be honest- even when honesty hurts.

And even though, you’d never say, you are the one who encourages the spirit of adventure that burns bright inside of me. Thank you for teaching me how to love and respect  animals and for nurturing a deep fanaticism for books and reading…..even though you are saddled with the by-product years on. Narrating Button Soup is not a useless ability…even now when I don’t need to hear it before I go sleep!

So here’s a secret… during those many self- imposed orphan years…I missed you the most. I’m not apologizing for the tears shed for and about me, but I love you and want you to know that I forgive you for those reciprocated.

I have yet to master your weapon of mass destruction…”le silent treatment”…because really- you couldn’t shut me up for a second even if you tried…so there are still so many things I have yet to learn from you. So don’t fret Ol’ Lady, you and me have many more adventures ahead!!!

I’d also like this to serve as an official and very public apology for an incident that occurred circa 1991. It regards a certain school project…on budgies. More especially the incident relates to photocopied pictures of budgies which you so lovingly coloured in…on my behalf…without my consent. I’m sorry I had a cadenza of such epic proportions, and yes- to this day it’s still clearly a sore point…more than a decade on…. But you don’t just colour someone else’s budgies in without asking first…. #ffs…who does that?

<PAUSE>

Again, I’m sorry. And yes, the Encyclopaedia Britannica and the local library’s photocopy machine was the only way you could incorporate some visual imagery in a school project back in the day. That said, I do remember getting a good grade for that project- no gold star mind you…but at least it helps mend the wound and ease my ridiculous anguish.

I love you, Momaschnu- and I’m giving you the biggest telepathic hug in the omniverse (because that at least has to count for something…even if I have to live through an imaginary awkward moment).

All my love,

You perfectly imperfect daughter

P.S   It’s not budgies…it budgerigars… “Besides, you’re saying it wrong. It’s LeviOsa, not LeviosAR!”

Dear Nagatha Christie,

A Hari Krishna handed me a book recently (I'm still trying to figure out if she was infact a Hari Krishna....or a Scientologist posing as a Hari Krishna).There's a gem in the book that stuck to me like syphillis, and it reads...

"When your mind is crippled with auhority, as it is, it is very difficult to be free."

At the best of times I'm easy; but being free is a tad bit harder. Don't get me wrong, your misplaced concern and morbid facination with my wherabouts are totally appreciated and fall into the same category as the all the other creepies that add colour to my life and negatively promote rampant paranoia on my part. I particulary enjoyed how you made the Higher Authority sound.....my mind instantly conjured images of Darth Sidious. Kudos due on your part for the subliminal Star Wars reference.

While we are on the subject of constructive critisism, you do however stand to be corrected. Please, in all future communication refer to me on my lawful name, Charlie Sunshine. Say it like it's one word. Much like A Tribe Called Quest or A Pimp Named Slickback (say the whole thing if you will, yes- everytime.). I have out taste and sensitivity to your moral code decided to negate the explanatory noun in front of my name. I encourage you to try it out though, you might just be suprised just how much you like it. Although, I do know that your full name would be somewhere along the lines of Whiny Bitch Be Called Nagatha Christie. And yes. I will respectfully refer to you as such everytime....out of said moral duty and obligation- as you so elequently pointed out.

What can I say...Bitch's been having problems....lets see what my bottomless pit of excuses spits out today? I don't think I've quite kicked my nicotene addiction...even though a Malboro Red hasn't passed my lips in over a year- unlike most people, I say thank you for second hand smoke. And well, to be quite honest, I've been living in fear for the past few weeks of becomming a fully fledged not-so-barefoot hippie. Yes, you're right. I'm much to manic for that to happen. Minutes to madness is my motto when the sun shines. That and the fact that my parents never really let me play outside in fear of me being shot on the street when I was just a wee sprite (rough neighbourhood, coupled with middle class misplaced fear)...so the soles of these pretty feet aren't engineered to be shoeless. I also had to take time to revise me and Moth's zombie apocolypse survival plan- it would be neglegant on our part to not have all our ducks in a row....besides things are getting stranger by the day. A hairy worm keeps on following me in the garden. True story- so what does that tell you? Imminent.

The Higher Authority...defeated after a stomp.
 How you like them apples now, biatch?

But please, don't you dare fret about my standing with the Higher Authority. I saw him at a trance party a few weeks ago- standing defeated with a cardboard sign in his hand, looking to bum a lift home. Doubtfull he's comming after me, defeated is a colour he wears quite well. Your scare tactics won't work with me- I'm wys mos.

Burn, Bazinga! And haarties for you....in less than 48 hours I might add. Ahem.

In brightest day, in blackest night...no eeebil shall escape my sight.

Sincereley,

Charlie Sunshine

P.S. Yes, everytime.

Dear Ms. Sunshine,

Boo Bear and the savage fight to freedom!

It pains me to inform you that your last post is past due. A month? Really? I'm not sure exactly what type of rinkiedink operation you're trying to run here? My sources confirm that you have infact come out of a self imposed exile. I personally witnessed you getting your fix of organic vitamin D at Sprung.

The time for excuses has lapsed- answers are now being demanded for your absenteeism and colourful disregard for consistency. Should you not solicit a response in the proceeding 48 hours, I will be forced to uphold my moral duty to society and...and...report this matter to a Higher Authority.

Your fancy split infinitives and pathetically veiled innuendo will stand no chance against the iron willed sobriety and reasoning of the Higher Authority.

Awaiting your pending response.

Sincerely,
Nagatha Christie