It’s ten years ago. We’re not even twenty yet, but six months ago my sister was dying of pulmonary embolism. There have been tears and begging and whispered words to any deity that will listen, and most of all a bone-chilling fear that’s planted itself deep in my soul. But we’re here now, just the two of us under the Mediterranean sun. Two weeks in Cyprus to work on our tan and to celebrate life. Two weeks to get away from the horrors of what happened. Two weeks to melt away the winter that’s taken root within us.
And as the taxi driver laughs at our mispronunciation of the name of our hotel, I can feel the healing begin. “Chrielka!” he says loudly, as if dumb could be fixed by a louder volume, and we both try again, to his great dismay. He shakes his head and mutters something while weaving in and out of traffic and flipping other drivers off. Malin’s hair tickles my arm, and the trees are full of exotic flowers.
It’s the start of two amazing weeks of sunshine and the sea, of getting lost and finding our way back again, of fighting battles with cockroaches and emerging victorious, if a little worse for wear. It’s two weeks of incredible memories, but it’s that first taxi drive that I remember with the most fondness, because that’s what saved my life. It was those first few moments of laughter that expanded my chest and made room for the ice to melt.
This post was written for Nicky and Mike's 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing III. To see the other posts, please visit We Work For Cheese.
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Wow, Ziva, I'm speechless. Your sister's very, very lucky to have you.
ReplyDeleteSometimes there are things that just take our breath away. This post would be one of those things. So incredibly beautiful, Lemmikki.
ReplyDeleteSo filled with emotion without being overstated. An exquisite piece of writing, Ziva.
ReplyDeleteVery touching and wonderfully written, Ziva.
ReplyDeleteStunning piece straight from your heart.
ReplyDeleteI think I'm even luckier to have her, my friend, there was a time when I didn't think I would.
ReplyDeleteThank you, gorgeous, it felt good to write it. :)
ReplyDeleteIs the Alzheimer kicking in already? ;) Seriously though, thank you. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Jayne. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Linda.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Cheryl, it really was straight from my heart.
ReplyDeleteVery lovely. And very true. A change from descent to ascent is so often marked by some small but significant event.
ReplyDeleteOh my little heart strings have been pulled. That was beautiful! Laughter is such great medicine.
ReplyDeleteZiva, this was heart-stopping in it's beauty and elegance. What a frightening and horrid experience. I'm so glad you were able to mend your heart and that your sister is with you still. This piece of writing is astounding.
ReplyDeleteThis a wonderful story, beautifully told. It's not only the content—who doesn't like to hear about somebody overcoming dire adversity?—it's the way you say so much without saying it directly. For example, you could've said that you and Malin sat close together in the car. That's how ordinary, unimaginative writers would handle it. Instead, you say that her hair is tickling your arm and that the trees are blooming with new life, which says so much more.
ReplyDeleteSo much more.
Someday, I hope, you use your gift to write a great book, Ziva. About me, of course. Because what else is there?
You don't always recognise it as it's happening, but looking back, you know when the shift occurred.
ReplyDeleteThe best. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Linda, I am eternally grateful to still have her with me.
ReplyDeleteThank you, my friend, your words mean a lot to me. I'll get started on that book about you right away!
ReplyDeleteOh, Ziva. What an incredibly beautiful piece of writing. I am in awe of how you shared SOOOOOO much with so few words. Just amazing.
ReplyDeleteSo so beautiful.
ReplyDeleteI remember a taxi ride in St. John's from the airport to the place we were staying. The air was different... fresh... beautiful... and there were goats alongside the road. I will never forget that. Your story reminded me of that very night.
Simply beautiful, Ziva. You weave those words, and feelings, and recollections so very well.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Meleah. Growing up in Finland, you had to pay good money for your vowels, so I learned to say a lot in few words. ;)
ReplyDeleteIsn't it wonderful how clearly we remember certain things, even though it's been so long? :)
ReplyDeleteThank you, KZ. :)
ReplyDeleteWhat an exquisite piece of writing, Ziva. You captured so much with this piece. May all your days with your sister be full of sunshine and laughter from here on out.
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