You are a miracle. As is every human being. A bundle of joy, they say. But you are so much more. A marvelous map of hope, of possibilities. A reflection of me, of who I could’ve been. Of who I’m going to be. You giggle, and cry, and hug. I melt and dream. You lead me into new worlds, water my roots so that I grow branches and reach for the sky. I soar and almost believe I am who you think I am.
But slowly, your water dries up. Our world crumbles. I try to fly – my branches stuck in the cracked soil of your silence. Teenagers, they say. I grasp what’s left of you, my bundle of joy. But you are gone, hidden behind the walls of your desperate longing for independence.
And something else.
You slip away into the depth of darkness inside you. A new world of isolation and hopelessness. Of rage and resignation. Of loneliness.
You took my branches with you. I can’t find them anymore. They’re broken. Gone.
Depression, they say. Bipolar disorder. Something doesn’t work inside you.
Oh, but can they see what I begin to see? You aren’t gone. You’re just a new map of possibilities. A different bundle of joy. A fresh chance of rebirth, of another human being within you. Within me. Of a time to readjust. To learn. To sprout other branches that reach for unusual heights. To be who I am destined to be – the mother of a miracle.
A writer and photographer, Krisztina Fehervari was born and raised in Budapest, Hungary. She has lived in many places around the world before settling in Houston, Texas a decade ago with her husband and three children. Her work has appeared on NPR, Foliate Oak, Touch, and Absinthe Revival. She writes poetry, prose, and essays. You can find samples of her work on her website, www.krisztina.fehervari.com.