Circular Insanity

I adore Lima. I simply adore the girl.

I always wanted one of those Victorian high beds, so high that one needs a step-ladder to climb onto it, complete with the carved backboard, and yards of drapery over it.

I have wanted a high bed for as long as I can remember. My initial attraction towards it was appeased by all that I associated with high beds. Novels of Jane Austen, the countryside, the simple life, and even to a certain extent, the Romantic Age.

With the passage of time until recent days, I also realized the many conveniences a high bed has to offer. Such as the fact that I can store so many things under it, even keep entire pull-out drawers of things I do not have space for.

A part of me wants a high bed so children at some point in time, Allah Willing, can hide underneath when playing the games that they do. A lot like my childhood in F-6/4; the mere mention brings forth an eddy of memories. Alhamdo lillah.

Lima is the most eager friend I have known. I may bullet random questions in her direction, but she never ceases to answer the most ridiculous of questions with an equally ridiculous answer. She comes up with solutions to panic situations almost immediately. Although most of her solutions are quite criminal and outrageous, the mere prospect of her blurting out instantaneous escape routes is absolutely hilarious.

I ask for a way to earn instant cash which is not illegal or immoral, and she tells me to withdraw the security deposit from the school that I dropped out of. Just like that. In the blink of an eye.

I say the weather is much too pleasant to be wasted by spending the morning at the gym, and she suggests French Beach, and we buy lunch and head out there. We go for an hour. We don't plan out anything. Just go, wade our feet in the water, have lunch, talk lots and head home before 4 pm.

That's how we do most things. Without plans. It's all so simultaneous.

I can laugh with her, I can cry with her. And then laugh some more. I can step out of the picture and examine it myself and the situation objectively, so much so that I can bring out the positive aspects and thank Allah for all that He has Given me, and see the beauty in all that He Chose not to.

I have seen her in so much pain that I would not wish to see anyone in. That made me realize just how much I love her, and why Allah made me the youngest child, and her the only one in her family: so we could be sisters to each other, and I could mother her the way I do.

I tell her only half-jokingly that I must surely be her emotional hypochondriac, if the term exists. Emotional hypochondriac because I am equally affected by all that pleases, saddens or hurts her. Half-jokingly because I think I'm right when I say it. I sleep at night to dream of her childhood the days she misses her less-troubled days, I cry inside when I think that she wants to cry but is holding back her tears. She says I know just when to squeeze her hand, and when she needs a hug. She's not very responsive to hugs, but she leans towards me when I do.

No one, no one quite understands our sudden urges to drive when upset, just drive and talk. Our our association with the sea.

We can become lost in the winding roads of Phase I, and make it seem like it is an intentional stroll in the park, come back to the same point after 20 minutes of driving, and comfortably pass it off for circular insanity. Only to try reaching our destination again, completely unfazed by the previous failure.

Recently I thought of another reason why I want a high bed. A reason that overshadows all previous reasons I ever baked in my mind. I want a high bed so I can keep Lima under it. She will simply live under my bed. One of those bookish little spaces with enough light to read, an electric kettle for her insatiable demand for tea and the convenience of always having her around. The minute I want to think out loud about a seemingly sad situation, I know on the board under the mattress and she can peer out and we can talk. She is masha Allah a marvel when it comes to quoting words of Allah and his Rasool Allah SAWS at times of distress.

To say more would demean an immensely treasured frienship. So I shall stop at the least.

Lima likes low beds and sleeps without a pillow. I'm sure that can be arranged under my very high, very Victorian, high bed.