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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1762752-My-Type-of-Karma
by Louise
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #1762752
This is a story about karma and how it comes around to everyone.
         Remember how you called me stupid for asking if Granny would be over a hundred years of age if she were still alive?  You don’t?  That’s funny because although it was thirty years ago I still remember the humiliation I felt even though I was not aware that this was what that emotion was called.  Well for goodness sake I was only five!  But it’s ok I have forgiven you, mostly. Forgiveness is part and parcel of my new way of life. You should be so proud of me but unfortunately it is always self- pride that matters to you.

         You looked so frail and lost the day that mother was buried.  Ungraciously I wondered how you would manage with no one to butter your bread the way you liked it or over cook the vegetables to your taste.  Karma is an idea that you would sneer at.  But to me it is a huge part of my life or my way of learning to live.  Instead of seeking acceptance from you whom I considered an all-knowing Deity (or nowadays as I see it, a freaking complete control nut) I now seek acceptance from my conscience.  At least I try to seek it.

         How you would mock most of my early decisions when I was still struggling to find my path in life.  Mockery was a learning tool that you favoured over patience and kindness.  Some lessons are hard to be unlearned as I find that very same trait trying to creep it’s way into my way of thinking.  Obviously I have inherited the ‘don’t suffer fools’ gene from you.  Having said that, humour is a gift that I have gladly accepted from you.  Thankfully my humour is not partnered with an ability to sniff out weakness to use as a tool for comedy.

         I have seldom seen you laugh lately.  But then you were witnessing the slow, painful demise of the one and only person (apart from yourself) who truly worshipped you.  Now she is gone and I am without a mother while you are without your adoring audience of one.  Her loss of memories must nearly have destroyed you.  No more could she applaud your bitter witticisms or tell you how clever you were for showing up the young Asian woman who made the unforgivable mistake of overcharging you at the supermarket.

         But am I being too harsh?  Karma would suggest that I forgive the past but I am new to my chosen religion.  Forgiveness is a lesson that takes time and a willingness to learn.  As the Americans say (whom you also despise) I am a work in progress.  Progression seems to be a tough route to follow but I know “If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.” Isn’t that so father?

         Sometimes I believe that I have travelled far along the road to self-belief and then there are those exquisitely tortuous moments when I am transported back to your dinner table and you are reprimanding me for taking another roast potato.  You would smile in a way that suggested that you were a benign friend and then say:

‘Now you know you don’t really want that Elaine’

Food issues are something that I continually have to work on.  What, did you think I just became this nine stone sylph overnight?  I’m not apportioning blame here father, well yes actually I am.  But did it ever occur to you that undermining a thirteen-year-old girl’s confidence was not really an appropriate hobby for her father?  You not only made it your hobby, you made it a life-long passion.  Oh no there goes that bitterness again.  I shall not allow it to develop into a passion but instead will work on forgiveness as I would a hobby that I would enjoy if only I did not find it so impossibly hard to learn.  That guy Patrick Holford should write a book on detoxing from bitterness.  A best seller for sure!

         Why is all this coming out now you might wonder?  Don’t fret, it’s not because I am now your sole guardian and have complete authority over every aspect of your life including your many medications (que evil laugh).  No to be honest the other two siblings ‘just couldn’t cope’ and wanted you incarcerated in the most geographically challenged borstal, I mean nursing home.  Obviously they are a bit more karmacally challenged than me.  And why should you be inflicted on some poor sods that work for a pittance and have to listen to your rantings?  No father dear I’m afraid the duty lies with me to take care of you.  But no need to worry Daddy I’m completely cured of my previous psychopathic tendencies.  Well almost!









© Copyright 2011 Louise (lmharte at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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