I am living my life along smoothly, humming my little hums, enjoying my family and my new rhythms, when I get a bad case of the (hicCUP)s. I immediately stop what I am doing and hold very still and tell myself NO. You are not going to let malicious external forces take over your life. There is one magic space where perhaps they will not have come; if you don’t stop them now you never will. I stare at the creamy distressed cabinet doors of my kitchen and I quiet everything in the universe and hold very, very (hicCuP) still.
Denial has not worked.
I roar out into the quiet, protesting the loss of my peaceful hour (hicCUp). I hate hiccups like I hate the plague, a violently intrusive unplanned. I go to the sink and fetch a glass of cool (hicCup) water. I drink it slowly, slowly, thinking of nothing but a smooth and healing end, and when I am done I hold my breath for as long as I can.
There is nothing for it now but to endure, to tuck my head down and ride (hicCUP) out the unpleasantness. I wonder (hiCCup) does it make it worse to acknowledge it, or to pretend it is not there? (HICCUP) For the time, there is nothing else in the world but my own mind screaming at (hiccUP) itself to make it stop. I cannot step outside my survival to (HICcup) wonder how many other people are fighting their own battles with the undeniable and unexpected and unwelcome, when the world changes and the earth cracks in semipredictable devastations. I just (hicCUP) wait it out, the slow-moving patience of my outside person a sharp contrast to the twist-turning tension of my inside (hICcup) person and the dreading of the next bump. A Chinese water torture (hiccup) of uneven dripping. Or is it even? If I do not watch myself, I will start counting syllables and seconds.
Where will the next one land?
I prefer a smooth life, one of knowing what comes next and that A+B=C. I want a life that works rationally: good choices are rewarded, good people are honored, and good Gods rule the earth. I like saying yes to the yes things and no to the horrid things and believing that I have choices.
Perhaps they are gone now?
(hicCUP) There is nothing I like less than being out of control of my own life.
Some things cannot be spoken, and cannot be unspoken, lest we die. Are you well? I’ve missed you.