Cycle(ˈsīkəl)

Cycle(ˈsīkəl)
CYCLE

INT: A LIVING ROOM

MARIA(məriēə), a woman in her early forties, is rocking(räk) her infant(ˈinfənt) son while breastfeeding(ˈbrestˌfēd) late at night. There is a storm outside.

MARIA

(Is singing(siNG) a lullaby(ˈlələˌbī) and slowly stops)

This is it. There are some moments you know you’ll remember forever. Not because something memorable happens, but because for just the briefest(brēf) moment you get broken out of the cycle of endless days and you understand exactly where that moment stands in the whole history of the world.

(Looks down at the baby and smiles)

You would be the one making me notice it, too. I never thought I’d want anything to do with your kind. “Give away your life and never get it back” would be the censored(ˈsensər) version(ˈvərZHən) of my views on parenthood(ˈpar-,ˈpe(ə)rəntˌho͝od). I couldn’t imagine(iˈmajən) anyone wanting to wake up in the middle of the night to let a leech(lēCH) suck(sək) on their chapped nipples(ˈnipəl), then be a zombie(ˈzämbē) all day doing laundry(ˈlän-,ˌlôndrē) and listening to the little parasite(ˈparəˌsīt) scream(skrēm). Day after day after day. I thought I’d be giving away my youth. As though youth is something you can just hold onto if you hold out on making choices.

(Looks outside)

The most important thing is realizing that it all ends anyway, and you can’t stop any of it. I didn’t want to know that before now. I wanted the illusion(iˈlo͞oZHən) that I could stay rooted and the world would flow around my ankles(ˈaNGkəl). But here you are and my nipples are chapped and sometimes I do feel like a zombie, but it isn’t unending(ˌənˈendiNG), it’s…ephemeral(əˈfem(ə)rəl). Rain pattering(ˈpatər) on the roof and your tiny(ˈtīnē) body fitting perfectly in my arms and my skin still looks youngish and none of it is going to last very long at all. You’re my little barometer(bəˈrämitər) for how quickly time really passes. I never knew until right now. I was afraid(əˈfrād) to know, I think.

(With a look of deep contentment)

And it isn’t nearly as scary(ˈske(ə)rē) as I thought. Now that you’re here, I can see your whole life ahead of you, which means that I have to see my whole life ahead of me too. I’m going to get old. You’re going to become such a beautiful young man. I wasn’t really aware(əˈwe(ə)r) that I would die until right now, or that I’d be so okay with it. Forty years of running from this one realization(ˌrē(ə)ləˈzāSHən), and it isn’t so bad now that it’s here. Knowing that being replaced in the world can be a kind of joy(joi). Knowing that the cycle doesn’t have to be the grind(grīnd) of the wheel((h)wēl) turning—it can be winter, spring, summer, fall.

https://www.instantmonologues.com/preview/Cycle