Dedication
To my girls, who weave me a parachute out of the strings of the Universe and catch me every time I fall… Love ur guts babiis
Epilogue
Mum was dropping Lai off at tennis and getting some errands done, so Mira was alone in the house.
It was a rare moment of reprieve.
She decided to make herself a tossed salad. The kind mum used to pack in her school lunchbox; with lettuce, tomato, carrot and cheese cubes; a kitchen sink dressing of oil, vinegar and a good pinch of salt, and little cube-treasures of crisp apple…while all the other kids had cheese and Vegemite sandwiches.
Mira made her salad with loving ritual, the kind that brings a sprinkle of peace and a dash of clarity to the concoction of life.
Mira had been thinking about moving back into her apartment more seriously lately. She just needed to move, to get away, she couldn’t explain why.
Mira moving away wasn’t going to end the world, or anyone in it. Mum was gonna be ok, Lai was gonna be ok.
“You’ve just been stalling. You’re gonna be ok kid. For what it’s worth, you’ll be more than ok,” Mil-Kai was all of a sudden standing behind Mira as she tossed her salad for one, his violet wings outspread protectively.
Mira nodded, but she watched her slight hands tremor on their own. Mira could almost feel herself standing back beside Mil-Kai and watching on as her body crumpled up and she sobbed out all the pain that had been rusted up and corroding her inside, keeping her gears jammed and stopping her from moving forward.
But those honest tears washed her gummed up momentum clean.
Mira ate her treasured-memory salad with an old fire she hadn’t realised had gone MIA, ‘till she felt it dancing through her veins again - spunk.
Working her hand in vigorous, mechanical circles; Mira wiped down the kitchen bench top after she finished eating.
Following her daydreaming mind as it wondered through the clouds, up past the sky and into the stars; Mira let her subconscious take over. She was exhausted from overthinking everything in life, and curious to find out where her mind would lead her if she let it off it’s ever-tight leash.
…To some fresh Inspiration maybe?
Mira hoped so.
But out of nowhere I’ll Make Love to You whisper-serenaded Mira in her head.
Leaning a fist full of white knuckles over the bench, everything in Mira shifted.
The invisible energy-tendons that pulled Time tight released.
She felt the familiar current of her energy travelling with his flow, a feeling that she had denied herself for months - and it had felt like a mighty dull eternity.
But now everything lifted in Mira, heightening her ‘till she was a throbbing pulse of connection and reaction. Her insides were racing and squirming and embracing all at once. Tingling molecules of energy raced together joyously, catalysing sensations and causing physical reactions all over her.
Mira’s hand flattened and stretched out over the bench as she reached an apex of fireworks in the base of her spine. A soft moan slipped past her lips and Mira beg-prayed to the Universe that she wasn’t crazy.
What You Think You Want and What You Need Are Usually Two Different Things…
It had been two months since Jen’s party.
Christmas decorations adorned homes, street lights and shops; tinkling and glistening and triggering a taste of childhood excitement in Mira’s brain that couldn’t touch her soul this year.
The Ghost of Christmas Past would forevermore cast a shadow over Mira’s festive seasons.
Everything felt out of alignment and hollow.
Mira was still working at the deli. She knew many of the customers personally now, well at least on a first name and preferred order basis. And she honestly was enjoying the safe, homely rhythm of life that cocooned her broken soul.
But deep down in her heart-of-hearts, something was tugging urgently at Mira, shouting at her to Get up! Move faster!
But her inner compass had gone haywire and Mira didn’t know where to go.
So she stayed put, feeling like she was hovering.
Mr and Mrs Popovic who owned the deli were quirky and kind; and appreciated Mira’s hard-work ethic with exuberant, broken English enthusiasm.
“You a good girl Mira, a very good girl,” Mr Popovic would often call out on his way through the shop with boxes. Mrs Popovic delighted in teaching Mira new recipes. Mira suspected she left out at least one or two secret ingredients every time because Mira could never get her sarma or apple cake to taste quite as good.
Although she was still living with Mum and Lai at home, Mira was planning to move out and back into her apartment by the end of the year.
…Early next year at the latest, the very latest.
Mira hadn’t been invited to show her art at anymore exhibitions, which made her feel titchy and restless inside. But she was entering every art competition she could find and painting every day.
Ok, maybe not every art competition.
Some were just out of her league.
And it was more like every second day she painted, or third; somedays she was just tired.
Always on a day off though… well, mostly.
It was like she’d severed her connection with Inspiration.
It didn’t make any sense!
She’d somehow doused out her own fire - the one that ignited her soul, set her paintbrushes alight and made something beautiful.
And it wasn’t fair!
Mira had done everything she was supposed to do.
She’d taken that big chance, backed herself 100%, stood on her own two feet, believed in herself, cut toxicity out of her life.
Bleh, bleh, bleh… isn’t that what the oracle Instagram says you’re supposed to do?
But it wasn’t enough.
Her link with something she believed in was gone, and she couldn’t find it again.
Mira had managed to make the short-list of her local library’s Annual Emerging Artists Competition, on the back of her Sunny piece.
She was grateful and humbled and flattered for the accolade, but Mira hadn’t gone to the presentation.
Her heart just wasn’t in riding the coattails of a previous affair with Inspiration.
She wanted to be more than a one paint-stroke wonder.
Monday morning Mira was in the garage early painting, still a bit blurry eyed but determined. She gulped at her coffee, feeling the morning fog lifting slowly off her brain. It was unusual for Mira to be at her art on a weekday morning, but she had the day off, having worked the weekend at the Deli.
Mira had this idea banging and scraping relentlessly at the back of her head.
Instead of complaining that Inspiration had left her, she figured she should just follow this lead.
The idea was to paint cloud pictures. You know, the kind you make up out of your imagination as a kid, when you look up into the cloudy sky on a barmy summer’s day.
The problem was that every time