Weather Woman

Out of one, many

Since coming of age, she realized she was a small chip from the ginormous trunk of Mother Nature. Her demeanor was a reflection of what was painted in the sky.

On sunny days, she was a radiant beam. Scantily clad, she would skip around, dancing to tunes only she could hear. The sweltering heat made her skin sticky, eliciting a mild irritation that was short-lived. Nothing could quench the joy that sprang from the depths of her complex being.

On cloudy days, ripples of sorrow spread across her fine-boned face, moulding it into a labyrinth of despair. Her soulful brown eyes darkened, displaying the ongoing emotional turmoil. She would gaze at the sky, “un-count” her blessings whilst magnifying her misfortunes.

Some days, when the sun chooses to play hide and seek with the clouds, her mood sporadically switches. Smiles vanished into frowns, and tears would end in laughter. Such days of mercurial moods were the absolute worst.

When the gravid skies go into labour, releasing rain relentlessly, Ruth would weep with Nature. Unable to explain her overwhelming urge to cry whenever it rained to anyone who cared enough to ask, she would simply reply, “I am under the weather.” The sound of rain and roaring thunder drowned her earsplitting wail.

Almost everyone who crossed paths with Ruth considered her a freak, but she remained unfazed by their opinions. “I’m not crazy. Nature and I are in sync, I am a superior being” she would say. After all, the Bible does say to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. It was her life’s mission to fulfil that mandate.

Ruth is delusional. Ruth is a victim of childhood trauma. She adopted eccentricities to cope with a trauma so severe, it remained unacknowledged. She is oblivious to the fact that she suffers from PTSD.

She will live her life gazing at the sky, living and loving a life of lies.