Coma

I’m not sure what it was in particular about the small pink shell she so carefully held in her cupped hands. To me it seemed to glow a little, to almost hum…visually. What I do know for certain is that something about it was making her giggle, uncontrollably.

I sat down on the rocky sand behind her and pulled her into my lap. I peered over her shoulder and into her hands. She was shaking from her giggling and I was starting to worry she’d never stop. The shell was sending out pulses, I could see it. It would glow brightly, humming and then fade a little…she’d laugh louder.

I pulled her hair back and asked her to put it down.

“I can’t” she said.

“But you must try.” I said. “We need to go and that thing is freaking me out, you’ll need to leave it here.”

There was sand stuck to her legs from when she knealt on the beach just moments before when she had found the shell. I noticed she was quite tan and for an overcast day, this surprised me a little, must be the Native American in her…distant though it is.

“No.” she said.

I raised my eyebrows.

“I want to keep it.” she said.

“But can you let it go?” I asked her.

“I don’t even think I can.” she said.

I put my arms around her and cupped my hands under hers. She didn’t move, other than her giggle-shakes.

“Drop it into my hands.” I said.

“Mom, I can’t. I just can’t seem to move really.” She said.

“I’ll try and take it then.” I said.

“No, don’t…I need to get up, I think, to go for a walk.” She said.

She stood easily, and giggling she started walking towards the water. I was quite alarmed. I followed her with the intention to knock the shell out of her hands and just deal with her surprise, and maybe anger, afterwards.

She had gone into the water to just below her knees and suddenly she turned to face me, her face glowing with a big smile and loving eyes.

“Now, you stay here.” She said. “I’ve got to help somehow.”

As I raised my hand to reach out to her in protest she suddenly was nearly 2 yards out to sea from where she just was, still the water was just below her knees. My heart pounded. I began to rush toward her.

“Stay.” She blew this word to me, as a gentle wind.

I felt sedated and things became slow. I could see her clearly, facing me, hands cupped and sand still on her knees. Her hair was all about her, whipping wildly in some strange wind I could not feel. What was happening, my daughter, my love…my everything, giggling above the sea impossibly…controlled by something that seconds ago I could have just snatched away from her. What had I done.

Given my everything to the sea.

“You worry so. Sleep Mother.” She said through the wind.

I dreamed.

We were at the beach. My daughter was running ahead of me and had just dropped to her knees. She had found something. I ran up to her and crouched beside her.

“Oh look, Mom…how beautiful.” She said as she picked it up.

A small pink shell.

She started to giggle.

~ by flamesbain on June 14, 2007.