33 Days like these

The Little Red Haired Girl

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33 Days like these

Some days were just difficult Brain concluded, and their entrapment in this dark Pumphouse was making even the darkest of thoughts and reasoning very prominent, like thinking of recent past days prior to being in this dark, hard and circular prison where nothing could hide.

Days where nothing had gone right not even the simplest of tasks were possible. Like opening a bag of sugar without grains of it spilling everywhere, or tearing up a large envelope to fit into the bin without cutting a finger. To place a cup in the sink without it chipping or peg washing on the line without its weight skimming the dusty terrace and making it dirty again. Little insignificant issues that just kept happening to Brains frustration. Brain blamed Body. Fingers were not as agile as they used to be with lumpy arthritic joints or numbness from Fybromyalgia. Either way Brain knew it would get worse and it was Body’s fault, and Brain did not like it.

Days when despite all the best forethought and planning, and talking with the builder (via google translate which was slow and cumbersome and also relied on Body’s fingers) there was problem after problem with jobs he did going wrong, or materials missing causing him to go off site apparently for hours at a time sometimes never to return that day. Latterly the builder ended up being part time or not show up at all after promising he would on a particular day. Even Brain knew how to recognise the days of the week in Portuguese.

They were running out of money for places to stay and Body needed to be in the house ASAP. The builder knew this but made very little effort to keep to the deadline Body had set.

Brain thought about how the conversations could have been misunderstood, or lost in translation, and was realistically assessing them. There were definitely instances where some jobs in question and the installation of them were deliberately done incorrectly or ignored even though clear instruction had been given.
Body had also used gestures which could not have been mis-interpreted. Pointing up was higher, pointing downwards was lower in any language. Some words were similar such as ‘central’ or ‘Igual’ meaning central and equal and yet still the light fitting or the wiring for it was still not placed correctly and central. This was a small example Brain ascertained and was indicative of many other mistakes that had to have been deliberate. Brain was being fair in its assessment and now it had to ascertain why?

Why would the builder do that? Why would he not want to please the customer? What reason could he possibly have for doing such shoddy delaying work on their house when he hadn’t on Bossy Friends house? Body and Brain had even assessed his work over at her house and ears had listened while she had waxed lyrical about his work and how he had done such a good job. So what was the difference? Why was her house finished and had been done correctly by the same builder and there house not?

“He doesn’t like me cause I’m not as clever” the Little Red Haired Girl answered “he thinks I’m stupid that’s why.”
“Do not say that! Stupid not a kind word” Heart cried.
“I admit I am not as knowledgeable as Bossy Friend about some elements of building work but I have some prior experience of it and different knowledge. Not better, not worse just different” Brain was trying to assess correctly.

“You’re not as Bossy” Spirit called “that’s why she got stuff done, You were too busy being fair and…”
“Understanding?” volunteered Heart.
“No” Spirit denied “I got just as cross as Bossy friend eventually, but Brain kept assessing the possible damage it would cause if the builder left site, and the cost of further delays etc. Left me out there alone angry and bossy and out on a limb ” Spirit was getting cross just remembering the incidents.

“Which limb?” Body asked “I don’t remember that.”
“Oh shut up Body. Its an expression” Brain huffed and went on “Of course I had to assess that. The delays that would have been caused finding further material, finding another builder, what their lead time would be etc. Its not easy to find another builder if one has left half way through the work. No one wants to take it on!”

“Understandable” cried Heart “its depressing. It does not feel good.”
“That may be, but the responsibility of dismissing him was difficult” Brain admitted.

“It’s like waiting for a bus” Nana said.
“What do you mean?” the Little Red Haired Girl asked.
“Well at what point do you decide to walk if you have been waiting a long time? How long do you wait for it? Especially if you could have walked it already? You could start off walking and it go trundling past you before you reach the next bus stop.”

“I wish it were as cheap as a bus ride. We have wasted a lot of money” replied Brain.
“And effort” said Body.
“And emotions” cried Heart “it’s soul destroying all the disappointment and sorrow.”
“Tell me about it” sighed Soul “I totally agree. But we must be on this path and in here, this Pumphouse, for a reason. There must be a greater purpose to it all and lessons to be learnt.”

“Yeah like never to do house renovations again. I should have learnt that from previous experiences. It is never easy. Building work is always fraught with problems and I will admit I could have more knowledge and could do better. But under the circumstances….”
“What circumstances?” demanded Spirit ” who you gonna blame now Brain?”

“Me” cried Heart “and I will own it. I was in love and somewhat distracted with Noswad’s visits. Noswad and I distracted Brain.”
“You did, but I contributed too” admitted Spirit “It was great fun, great joy and I felt free and alive.”

“And what about trust? I trusted Noswad, I trusted my friend too and they both let me down. A double betrayal. I will never trust again. I will never put us all at risk again” cried Heart. The Little Red Haired Girl wrapped Body’s arms around the chest and gave Heart a hug.

“You will and you must” sighed Soul “you must find forgiveness for them.”
“Why should I?” the Little Red Haired girl pouted.
“Because it will set Spirit free again and let Heart heal and move on. There will be other friends, a new lover, a place where we will feel at peace and safe, a new path.”

“And where will I find it?” the child asked.

“Within us, within all parts of ‘us'”

“You have to believe it, and have faith in the healing” said the familiar big voice “Have faith in me. Tie your Heart, Soul and Spirit together with a ribbon. Its called Faith.”
Brain spluttered a little but recovered its decorum and respectfully stated “But not everyone believes in God.”
“True” God laughed “but whatever you call me, as long as it makes the good in people come out, their kindness, their better selves, their integrity, I am happy.”

“So what do people call you?” Brain enquired.

“Their higher self. Their Spirituality. Their religion be it Budhist, Hindu or Christian makes no difference. The good over evil, the right over wrong, the light over darkness is all that matters. To be kind and loving. The best person you can be.”

“Do I have to go to Sunday school?” the Little Red Haired Girl asked.

“Do I have to go to church its always soo cold?” moaned Body.

“You can talk to me anytime” God said (and to quote Monty Python ‘those Psalms are pretty miserable’) “just talk to me like your best friend, talk to me honestly and from the Heart and let me carry you. I will help you make the best decisions for yourselves and for the good of others too. You will find the answers.”

And with that Big voice was gone.