The Amazing Buddha

May 30, 2011
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Maybe it was the way the sun had spread itself out so evenly like the butter on Sunday morning toast. Or maybe it was the way that, in my mom’s SUV, with my seat leaned back half-way, the breeze seemed so much sweeter. But in this car, I felt like a Buddha; powerful, serene, and heavenly.

I almost certainly looked like one. My black hair was tied safely into a bun and my hoop earrings were dangling precariously on the tips of my ear lobes. Most of all, with my crisp golden skin, a souvenir from Mexican beaches, I could probably pass as a Buddha on a strict diet. Even my nails, carefully carved to perfection, resembled the tapered and serene elegance of incense – or, at least, “extra glassy-lovely pink” coloured incense..

If only this feeling of omnipotence could last forever. But, as hard as I want to hold on to my “Buddha-side”, the car pulls up to a stop at the front gate. The GPS in the car kindly announces that it’s now 12 o’clock. Perfect. Gone like a Cinderella, I leave only the warmth of my body tinted onto the leather seat.

Step by step, I walk across the flagstones, careful not to let any part of my foot touch the grassy areas. Against the odds—there were hints of moss on the steps, too—I accomplish my “mission impossible” and with a smug smile, close the door. I am back. Home. I remove my shoes… As my toes sense the coldness of the granite steps down to my dungeon, I do a reality check and remind myself there will be no Prince Charming to rescue me from my mom’s fiery nags and the hoard of homework that awaits me. I sigh helplessly as the feeling of desolation takes over. What happened to my inner Buddha?

I search and search, hoping for good news. But, at last, it becomes evident to me that no Buddha, not even a mini-size, bobblehead Buddha resides in me anymore. I push the door to my solitary cell. The sight of perfectly laced bed-curtains and white and pink polka dot wallpaper, saturated with peach air freshener, greets me with the usual heart skip. This time, however, I don’t even feel the long-expected teariness, or the “oh-so-casual” longing to cuddle teddy bears. There was only the miserable smell of freshly printed…homework.
On the edge of that endless abyss came a heavenly voice, “Sasha, get ready to go grocery shopping!”

And there I was, back in the car, yet again basking in the sun like a crocodile. When the red, gauche, annoying “Safeway” sign came into view, I daintily unclasped the seatbelt. I hopped out of the car as quick as I could, and rushed to put the quarter in the cart.

“Be careful, Sasha, you don’t want to get hit by a car in front of Safeway.”

“Geeez…mom, puh-lease. Like as if any driver is blind enough to not see this neon yellow shirt with ‘Watch It’ on it.”

“You never know, honey. They can mistake you for a bumble bee.”

“Mom.. honestly. No comment. I’m not some kind of a massive steroid-injected creature with a furry body.”

I roll my eyes at my mom’s seriously amazing logical sense.

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