A Minute in the Life of an Orphan.

In the last five minutes I have researched ambergris, listened to a hospital sit-drama and imagined what the expression on my face would report about me if my Skype camera was on and I was the subject of remote viewing by an unknown observer.

So, I arose from my desk, walked across the room to a mirror, taking care on this short trip to freeze the expression that I felt on my face. I expected to see puzzlement. Since I was first aware of this current facial expression as I wondered about a possible explanation for a strange set of symptoms I heard described by the actor playing the part of the super doctor in the play (no it was not House-some new guy), I expected my face to reflect the moment. But no, what I found was a display of anger which apparently resulted from a scene revolving around a fifty year old alcoholic lady who had just relapsed and was suddenly making horrible life choices, thereby placing herself at great risk and arousing severe childhood fears in her adult daughter who had spent most of her childhood parenting her mother and was witness to the sudden spiral plunge from reality by her child-mom.

Imagine the mixture of emotions as this young woman decided unconsciously whether she was daughter or mother to the lady exhibiting this abnormal behavior, this older, irrational member of her family.

Imagine this look on my face and the struggle I had in choosing to maintain the moue while experiencing first surprise at what was turning out to be an angry expression and which was jerking me back to my 2 ½ year old self, reliving suddenly the very moment when I learned that I was orphaned and that it was now up to me to care for my alcoholic mother and my 6 month old baby brother. Wow. All of this in less than a minute?

 An awareness of time is not necessarily a measure of reality, is it…?    Is it?


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