Halley’s Comet
Unknown
Halley’s Comet
Unknown
Unknown
Unknown
I woke up and could not feel my legs. Then I looked down and see a brown-haired woman in a blue blouse and jeans, asleep in a cold, blue hospital chair across from my hospital bed. I looked at my surroundings and saw I was hooked up to all kinds of machines. Beep. Beep. Beeping is all I heard. I tried to get up but my legs wouldn’t move. I tried again. Nothing. At this point, the lady with the brown hair starts to shift in her chair. She lets out a yawn and opens her eyes. I tried to move and the lady gets up. I see her face all wide-eyed and somewhat sympathetic. “Honey, you’re awake!”, she exclaims. She starts crying and runs to me and hugs me. Who is this woman? I don’t know. I ask, “Hi, lady, who are you?” She takes a step back and looks at me. She looks worried and confused. A little bit hurt, too. Was I supposed to know who this woman is? I feel like I should, but I have no clue. “Doctor!”, the woman yells as she looks out the door. “She’s awake!” A team of doctors and nurses came rushing. A man wearing blue scrubs asks me how I am feeling. “Confused,” I answer bluntly. He asks if I know where I am. “Hospital,” I reply. They kept asking me questions that were easy enough to answer. I kept thinking about how I can’t seem to move my legs. Then the one question that would change my life forever. “What is your name?”. It has been 5 years and I never got my memory back. They told me I had this freak accident while bungee jumping. I don’t remember any of it. With intense physiotherapy, I regained the strength to walk. This is my life now. I am starting over.
October 15, 2021. It was a sunny autumn day. The colours of the of the world had turned from a brilliant green to marvellous hues of red, orange and yellow. Jenny inhaled the crisp cool air. “I missed this”, she thought to herself. She sat down on the cold bench and reflected back to the time she was last here. November 10, 2001. It had been a few months after the terrorist bombing of the World Trade Centre. A day of so much sorrow and fear. Jenny took a seat at her vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The scars so visible, one across her thin right shoulder where a piece of metal had pierced right through her. Another scar under her chin, about 2 inches long. She pulls a red knit cardigan over her black silk tank top and start dabbing her makeup over the scar on her chin. Jenny tries to shake off the memories from that day of 9/11. She still has nightmares and sleepless nights. One year ago she met this dashing young man and fell in love. Luckily for her he loved her back. But now he’s gone and things will never be the same. He was one of the lives lost when the towers crumbled and her scars will forever be reminders of her lost love. Jenny grabbed her wool coat from the closet on her way out. She walked down the steep stairs from her 5th floor apartment and saw the yellow cab waiting out front for her. She hopped in the back seat and told the driver to take her to the cemetery. When she arrived at her destination , she paid the driver and told him to keep the change. She got out and walked on the grass. She knelt down beside a headstone covered with the fallen autumn leaves. With one swipe of her hand, she brushed off the dead brown leaves. Jenny looked at the headstone which read:
James Jacob Peterson May 24, 1975 - September 11, 2001
Jenny’s eyes start to water. A tear rolls down her face leaving a black streak from her mascara. “JJ”, she sobs, “these past few months have been torture. Life hasn’t been the same. I miss you so much. I can’t stay here anymore.” She holds back her tears. “I have to leave. My life is no longer here. I can’t stay in this city without you. I’m going home to San Diego.” She takes a deep breath, “I love you”. She left the city that day and had not returned till now. She sat on the bench in Central Park, thinking back to happy times she spent with her JJ.
“Mommy, what is cancer?” Isabella whispers to her mother. With tears in her eyes, Jane looks at Isabella’s heart-shaped face , so full of confusion. She does not know how to answer her sweet little 4 year old. The father of her child, her husband, had passed at away that morning at the tender age of 37. Their story reminds me of the day I received the same news about my own father. My father, whom I loved so dearly. It has been 24 years since that day. I do not remember much, just my mother and sisters sobbing with tears running down their faces. I touched my face not realizing I was crying, too. My father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer at the age 50. At that time, I did not know what that had meant. I was 9. My father was a strong man. I watched my father grow tired, weary and thinner for 2 years. At the end of his life he was so fragile that I was scared to break him just by touching. I still miss him so. I remember the last Christmas break we had together. Something happened, that is engraved forever in my heart. My parents had a very complicated relationship before the cancer. I would wake up at nights to the sound of them fighting and breaking dishes. I guess that is the reason why I remember New’s Years Eve 2000 so clearly. It was so quiet, my little sister who was 4 was asleep and my older sisters had gone to a party. My mother and I placed 2 chairs in front of the living room window. I asked my mum “what are we doing”. “Dad wants to see the fireworks”, she replied. “I will get him as soon as they start”. At the stroke of midnight, there was a bang and beautiful hues of red, green, and blue lighted up the sky. My mother rushed to the bedroom and came out clutching my father by her side. They sat down on the two chairs in front of the window, while I slumped down on the sofa behind them. My father sat looking out the window, the colours of the fireworks reflecting on his glassy brown eyes. My Mother picked up his very thin hand and started stroking it lovingly. I heard her whisper, “I am glad you made this far”, then kissed his hand. I never saw my mom show that much love towards my father until that night. Sad, really, when you think of it. 19 days later, my father died and nothing has been the same. It has been 20 years and my mother still grieves. I just hope for Jane and Isabella they will have more memories, like the one I have of New Year’s Eve 2000. Forever engraved on their hearts.
Laughter echoed about the room But silence would deafen Before the flowers bloom The snow will fall But I won’t be here Not even at all
My mother’s hugs bring peace But it won’t last long Because of my race They call me a dirty savage But Ingawii says I am not Maybe I am because of my brown face
My father’s face is hard Trying not to show emotion It cuts my heart like a shard I will return one day Don’t worry Nootawi In the land, we will go to stay
My teacher’s strap burns my hand I won’t, I won’t I won’t speak the language of my land My mother tongue is hushly spoken But fear is always here What if they catch us, awoken
My sister is with me But they keep her away Even if I cry when I plea My brother is strong Even when he’s beaten But this is so wrong
My home is far away I remember it in my dreams With Innimsh I will pray To return home one of these days Insdesh is going home We all part ways
Laughter echoed about the room My family is together again My father is funny, I assume Tomorrow I shall return But as fate would have it I will return in a urn