Behind me

"Behind me now! Get behind me, she shouts and pushes in front of the dog, the child, the lover." Behind me," she shouts as she takes the bullets on their behalf.

Where does this stuff even come from?

Actually, I wanted to write about the green fern that I've been so in love with.

I nurtured it back from dead over the last two years, and each time I saw its new long tender thingies with the small soft green leaves on it I felt such joy and pride but even though I've been sticking to its once a week watering, today, after a few days of intense heat, I notice its leaves were all dried up - curled towards death - and it's soil bone dry, and I feel grief for the growth and regeneration that is behind us now as we turn back to nurturing but dry sticks and leaves so that small green leaves can slowly unfurl from the soil once again.

My words feel pretty dry to me right now.

Flashes of inner peace and acceptance are behind me now as my mind jumps in front of my heart, taking the bullets of regret before it really hits home that for now my green friend is no more and... ag, why does this remind me of my parents?

Our time together behind me now, and I don't know if I will see them again, unlike the fern, which a previous experience tells me will reappear given enough water and time.

My ears grow hot as I write this. It might just be because I've closed all the windows against mosquitos, who are seeking the warmth and glow of electrical lighta as this Midsummer Cape Town evening slowly fades into dusk.

But perhaps the heat in my ears are caused by something else - a flash of heat rising up the body as the heart pumps more quickly now that I'm allowing myself to slow down and remember that soon all of life will be behind me.