– “The rogues salute you, making their souls your slaves;
They get drunk from your cup, the drunken people salute you.”
…𝄞⋆ ݁♪ .˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞…
“O desire of desire, remove that veil from it;
I know no one but him, the drunken people salute you.”
…𝄞⋆ ݁♪ .˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞…
– “What a sweet melody. I loved it, even though I have no idea what it means. Who are you?”
– “Nobody.”
– “Well, what are you?”
– “Nothing.”
– “I mean… what do you want with me?”
– “Nothing.”
– “How did you get here?”
– “You came to me… 23 years later.”
– “I don’t get what you’re saying at all, but I don’t know why I’m so glad you’re here. It feels really good. Don’t go anywhere; stay with me always…”
– “I have always been with you, I am, and I always will be. I am absolute existence.”
Mr. Someone’s phone—now a state-of-the-art model—screams that it’s 6:25 AM. Mrs. Someone grumbles, “I’ll get up in five minutes. You put the coffee on, and tell the girls to help their brothers pack their school stuff.”
Mr. Someone rushes toward the bathroom door to get a quick shave, but with seven kids, his turn isn’t coming anytime soon. Mrs. Someone, still grumbling, gently buckles two of the littlest ones into their car seats so they don’t wake up—in a car now large enough to easily fit five people in the back. Every morning, they drop the toddlers off at daycare; two of the older girls and boys take the school bus, and as usual, they drop the last one off on their way. If traffic in the city of “Behind-the-Mountain” allows, their workday starts at precisely 8:30 AM.
Mrs. Someone, who couldn’t eat anything because she woke up a bit late, grabs a coffee from the company coffee shop and hurries to her desk. Time flies like the wind until 3:00 PM, when she has to leave earlier than Mr. Someone to pick up the kids from school.
Mr. Someone, who has just started this new job, works non-stop until 6:00 PM every day in a long, narrow office. Being a precise and organized person, he’ll likely get promoted within a year—especially since he stays an extra half-hour to an hour every day just to suck up to his boss.
Every evening, Mr. Someone is the last one home. He slumps onto their shiny velvet couch next to the kids, who are either fiddling with their tablets or, as usual, playing on their console with the TV volume blaring. He turns on the couch’s heated massager—which feels amazing—and starts checking land prices around the city.
Mrs. Someone says in a tone dripping with sarcasm, “My lord, please join us at the table, and tell the kids to come over too. Dinner’s ready.”
Mr. Someone, having no energy left to deal with the kids, says in a loud, threatening voice, “Didn’t you hear your mother?”
One by one, the kids reluctantly pull themselves away from their gadgets and sit at the twelve-person dining table in the formal living room. Mrs. Someone begins saying grace before the meal and serves everyone.
As usual, Mr. Someone and his family head to their bedrooms to sleep around ten, though the light under the doors makes it clear the girls are still glued to their tablets.
“How was your day?” Mrs. Someone asks.
Mr. Someone, not really in the mood to talk, replies, “Nothing. Same as every day.”
Saying the word “nothing” reminds him of the dream he had last night—the one that, for the first time in a long while, had given him such a good feeling. He tries to tell her about it, but the truth is, he didn’t quite understand what he had dreamed either.
Mrs. Someone says, “We need a nanny here, just like at our old house in Nowhereville. I’m really at my wit’s end.”
Mr. Someone replies soothingly, “The girls are growing up now. You should ask them to help out more around the house.”
Mrs. Someone, annoyed by his deflection, says, “Those three rascals don’t help at all—and every day they want something new. Oh, and remember to send the money for the kids’ school trip tomorrow.”
– “Oh, come on! These schools here come up with some nonsense every single day. We’re already drowning in mortgage and car payments as it is.”
Mrs. Someone eventually falls asleep from exhaustion, but Mr. Someone lies awake, thinking about 23 years into the future—a time when, in his seventies, the house will finally be paid off, the kids will be grown, and he and his wife can rest a little more… and maybe even go on a trip.
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
Spent was this precious life in endless care,
Of what to eat in summer, what in winter wear.
Oh greedy belly, be content with a single loaf of bread,
Lest you bow your back in servitude and bow your head.
