Heartbeats

Father

Comforted by the silence
Blessed by the warmth
A distant fog inbound
Why can’t I breathe?

Heart beats slow
Don’t know why
Maybe just relax

Do I
Smell burning

Toast

Mother

When it rains heavily and you hear the sounds of each drop plunk itself right down by your feet, you realise just how indifferent nature is to us. Mere ants at the feet of the clouds and the storms. An overbearing giant. A force we cannot control.
With that being said, the rain better let off soon. Can’t expect that fool of a husband to cook dinner again. He might be a fine drummer but he’s far from anything close to a decent cook. The last time he made dinner, I swear I had to put Febreze all over the kitchen for a week just to block out the burning smell that he summoned and cursed the flat with.
I sometimes wonder what he does all day, locked away inside that private little patch of heaven we call home. But at least he’s better at cleaning then I am so I guess it works out well for both of us. Strange I haven’t heard from him yet, usually he’ll ring to say “Oh can you pick up some more yogurt, oh and we need more milk. Oh and whilst you’re at it can you pick us up some more beers, we’re running low”. Honestly that man can sometimes drive me nuts, but in the end it’s almost impossible to hate a man you’ve dedicated 25 years of your life to.
But at least I can hear the rain loosening up a bit. It now recites the gentle romantic prose of a Percy Shelley rather than the encroaching wrath of a Charles Bukowski in each of its now sullen pitter patters that kiss the concrete floor. If I give it a few more seconds I should be released from this underpass I’ve decided to name as my defender for the time being. Come on girl, just a few more minutes away from the dry warmth of home.
With the rain giving way I bravely cross the once torrential terrain and try to inch my way closer towards my apartment complex which is within walking distance. A mountainous overbearing structure built with every eyesore and diminishing purpose that comes with a modern brutalist apartment block. But I’ve become so used to it that the devaluing power no longer disturbs me as much.
Though it is peculiar, flashing lights that seem to barrage my vision with a cavalcade of bright neon strobes that flicker as though I am about to enter a sleazy nightclub on a Friday night like the one I met my husband at. It was a cheap and run-down squalor of a place, but I met him whilst he was playing drums in his band. He was always good at counting his 4/4-time signature.
He used to tell me the rhythm was like a heartbeat. Drummer talk for you, but he spoke with such vigour and conviction that it was hard not to admire such beauty and divine skill such as him. Hope he and the kids aren’t being bothered by all this chaos outside.
I approach the complex only to be greeted by a slew of ambulances and medical officers, all running around as though termites running blind through their mounds. Maybe it’s that neighbour Ms Battersby having difficulty breathing again.
I am stopped as two men in white are taking away someone under a white sheet. Seeing death like that really does make you think about life, reflecting on everything as though soaring through above the savanna and looking down upon all the running moments that are passing by.
But alas I guess it’s time to return to the same routine of getting home, kissing my husband and children and attending to the same evening we blissfully have kept for 25 years.

Daughter

Alone the darkness that shrouds my ears can be very pleasurable. Though, of course there cannot be much to fathom when your eyes deny you any form of colour or even body. For the muteness has been my one enemy as well as my only ear to lend when the day gets to crowded. The only one to allow me to space to ponder my thoughts.
But as a bat there can be moments when my ears detect some strange sound that my radar hones towards. There, next door are the sounds of loud snores most assembly from my father. He’s probably asleep, though by the sounds of the footsteps, Thomas must be there to cause bother. Though odd how dad snores at the same volume as a truck along an open road.
“Dad!” my mouth calls out amongst the darkness. No response except the small footsteps of my brother who bolts out the room as though robbers about to make off from the bank just as the cops surround them. My mouth calls out once more, louder than before, yet once more, not a mere squeak except the sounds of the loud snores. After a query to my phone that tells me what clocks cannot a refreshment washes over me as mother shall be home shortly.
But what should be good to hear gets all but removed as the loud snores next door have sunk deep towards my ear drums, so much that they cause me great annoyance. The snores resemble the loud chokes of a large elephant that can only gasp for breath. That thought was now secreted down the depths of my thoughts as though the sound of a mad dog that barks through the busy market street, so much so that my thoughts argued for me to check on my father. Also, as Thomas was there, always good to check on the room and hear what he perhaps has done.
Before my feet could hold my body up, my hands reach towards the allocated area that my travel rod was last. After my hands cross the rough and scaley wall there she was, my old constant comrade. Rod amongst hand, the adventure to the door was set.
Each soft bang on the wall, my feet slowly waltz that way, the echoes of my bashes are my only eyes. Another bang means another place to allocate my feet, whether that be towards the bang or away from the bang. My fathers’ snores offer a great dot on my blank map of our apartment.
The louder the snores, the closer to my father my body becomes. My feet reach the X on the map when the sound becomes so clear that my ears even hear the small breathes before the snore erupts as though a volcano that bursts with an enormous roar. Upon my entrance to my parents’ room my mouth calls out to my father and of course he has once more returned to me the loud snores and grumbles.
My body tells me that we should just leave sleepless bears to sleep, but a force (as though a puppet led by an unseen hand) pulls me by a rope towards my parents large, hard and bulky double bed and lays me down next to the source of the snores. For the fourth repeat there’s no change, only the same snores that drone on and are by now have conquered my eardrums.
As my hand lays on my fathers’ chest to feel the breathes and beat, my hands tell me that the rhythm’s off. No longer under a 4/4 beat but as though an 2/4 beat or some free jazz song that seems to be total chaos.
Once more my mouth echoes the same call out to my father before my hands softly start to shake the heavy body, but there’s no movement, only the unbearable snores and the smell of the pee that has escaped from the body.

Son

It was quiet in the house before dad started snoring. I asked him once when I had to sleep next to him that time, I was sick all over my bed after eating so much chocolate at easter, but he merely said, “I don’t snore, so it wasn’t me!” Yet I know it was him as I can always hear him from my room next door. He’s snoring pretty loud now, maybe I should go and tell him he’s snoring loudly again.
If I do that, then daddy can’t ever tell me fibs about not snoring ever again. Maybe next time when I’m feeling very sick and icky, I can sleep next to mummy who never snores. I tell this to Randy bear and I think he agrees with me, so I decide to tell daddy off for a change. Without much wait I quickly pick up Randy and my solider helmet (since I am on a special mission) and go to mummy and daddy’s room which is just next door.
I was thinking of asking Brenda to come with me, since she’s bigger than me and mummy and daddy always tell me to go to my big sister if I need anything. But I don’t know how much she can help me with, since she can’t see (but still has eyes) and gets really really mad whenever I bother her. She once got so mad at me for when I asked her to come play water pistol fights with me and then sprayed her as an act of war (mummy took away my super soaker after that). So I think I will do this solo, who needs girls anyway.
After arming myself for this mission I put operation catch daddy snoring in full effect. Though mummy and daddy don’t like it when I go into their room alone and without their permission, I think this is a good enough reason to go. I go into the bedroom and see daddy lying on the bed in a funny way. His legs are over the bed and his arms are like he’s about to do star jumps and his eyes are still open. Daddy can be so silly sometimes, especially when he bangs on those 4 drum beats he has.
I poke daddy and tell him “ha gotcha”. But daddy doesn’t wake up or even move. I think daddy might be playing a game where he might rise up and try catch me when I poke again.
But I am a smart boy like they say in my class, so I don’t fall for daddy’s tricks anymore. I bet daddy is only snoring this loudly so he can catch me when I go to tell him off. Well, I’m not going to fall for it this time daddy, no sir, not me.
See daddy, I saw that little movement in your fingers. And there in your eyes, they’re moving towards your head. Are you trying to look inside your head daddy you silly man?
I remember when daddy took me to get my face painted purple in Spain so I could look like a zombie and scare all the people. So, you don’t fool me daddy when you paint your skin purple.
“Dad!” I hear Brenda call out from the other room, so I better dash off before Brenda comes and yells at me again. I take one last look at daddy asleep, who is still snoring very loudly.
Oh daddy, you can be so very silly sometimes.