The Alchemist's Diary

Solemn tears were flowing down my cheeks like a river. My hands were shaking as I wrote each word down in my journal - my little black book. The creased black leather cover shows how far we have traveled together through my soul's valleys of darkness and light. Its brown-looking paper records stories of tears and laughter, thought-provoking reflections, and hidden feelings. My diary is my dearest friend, a reliable friend who has tirelessly been my safe harbor. I loosened my grip and followed my pen's flow. Rumi's beautiful poem came to my mind, 'Choose Love, Love! Without the sweet life of Love, living is a burden - as you have seen.' Life has never been easy for me, and when I thought it couldn't get harder, the universe challenged me to grow onto the next level.

I looked over the smudged paper and continued on. Rumi's words filled my head, 'Love conquers everything, choose Love and give Love another chance always! God never burdens us with more than we can bear.' I took a deep breath and let go of the heavy feeling that weighed down on my shoulders. As I wrote down my one ultimate wish, a subtle breeze of cold wind made me shiver from my neck down to my spine. It gave rise to the warm feeling that cradled me like a cherished child. I let my body sag, and my muscles became loose. I was drowned in the energy of pure and unconditional love. My pray has been answered; I am not alone!

"Sisca, where are you?" I turned around and saw a faint shadow of my mum. "I am coming," I wiped down my tears and quickly shoved my journal and pen into my bag. I saw a slim, gracefully aging woman with short silver hair walking towards me. "I've been looking for you. We need to rush to the hospital; we have a meeting with the doctor in less than thirty minutes." I gave her a quick hug to calm her down, "We'll make it just in time." I led her to my compact size white Mazda. It was a silent trip; we both were lost in our own thoughts. Mum looked tired and worried; her fine lines and under-eye bags showed her exhaustion.

The combined smell of bleach, antiseptics, and medication filled my lungs as we walked into the hospital room. The white décor, bright lights, metal bed frames, and monitoring devices created a peculiar sensation. The hospital room felt somewhat cold and had a little human touch necessary to recover a soul. The hard mattress had been a soul woven into my dad's body for the past six months. Dad opened his eyes half-heartedly. Every extra day he had to spend in the hospital, his spirit diminished. "Hi, we brought you some dessert—those petite cakes from your favorite bakery," said mum as she unpacked a small paper bag. He closed his eyes again, muttering "thank you" in a low soft voice. "Hello! How's everyone feeling?" uttered a cheerful voice of Dr. Jenkin as he walked into the room. I turned around and shook his hand. "We are doing fine, thanks for asking," I replied. Mum only offered her faint smile; she's been limited with words lately.

He looked at my dad, then glanced at the door, "Let's talk outside so Jeff can rest up, shall we?" Dr. Jenkin led us out of the room and through the hospital corridor towards the cafeteria. He pointed to the corner table, "Would you like some coffee?" Mum nodded, "That would be lovely. Thank you." I held up my water bottle, "I am good, thanks for offering." The temperature in the cafeteria felt slightly warmer. I looked out the window. The hospital's courtyard was covered with lush green and decorated with colorful blooming flowers all around. Birds were chirping, beautifully orchestrated like a church choir – singing out their joy of life and praising their creator. Nature always has its way of showing its wonders to uplift our moods.

"I have good news for you. We found a kidney donor for Jeff. I checked, and there is an opening for surgery on the following Friday. This should give us enough time to run all pre-ops tests." Dr. Jenkin lightly tapped mum's right shoulder, trying to ease her fears. Fear shackles the knot in the stomach and creates a twisted feeling in the guts. It may feel like a constant hammer on the head yet can evaporate like water under love's bright sun. Fear is a mental illusion that disconnects us from the present moment as we forecast a less than acceptable future. Mum took a sip of her coffee, "We are very grateful for your support and assistance. You've done an amazing job finding a matching donor on such short notice. However, as you are well aware, we are under a lot of financial pressure in the past months because of ongoing medical costs. I am not sure how we can do this." I placed my arm around her shoulder. "We've got this. I am sure that we will find the solution. Thank you, doctor, for all your help. We couldn't have done it without you. "

Dr. Jenkin straightened his thick glasses. His blue eyes' emotion was ocean deep and complimented his facial expression that carried the sunlit surface's warmth and life. His deep crow's feet lines around his eyes' outer corners and three deep forehead lines proclaimed profound wisdom and confidence. "I understand how difficult your family situation is. I received special consideration from the hospital management to work out the best option. Here is the estimate of surgery and post-ops treatment cost." He handed out a creamy manila folder to mum. "We need full payment by this Friday to secure the donor and book the surgery room and medical team for next week." Mum stiffened her back as she opened the folder. "Forty-seven thousand dollars." She said very softly; she probably felt slightly safer by not saying it out loud.

Dr. Jenkin took a deep breath, trying to sympathize with us. I felt for him. This must be the most challenging part of his job. "The recovery will take about a week if there is no complication. There will be some changes required to his lifestyle following this procedure, which we will discuss before discharging him. Do you have any questions?" He again took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and us down. "Thank you for your time and help. We will confirm as soon as we speak to our health insurance." I looked at him sincerely in the eyes, acknowledging that he'd done his best. He got up and shook my hand, "My pleasure. I must go to attend to my next patient. If you have other questions, please don't hesitate to call me." I watched his back as he walked away, sent him thoughts of love. I muttered to myself, "I am sure everything will work out. Trust and have faith."

"Shall we go back to the room, or do you want to go?" I placed my hand gently over mum. Her eyes were watery; she was trying to contain herself from crying. Tears are a graceful way for our inner soul to plead for help and offer a chance to nurture our soul that can profoundly change lives forever. Abruptly, she got up and dragged me out. "Let's sort this insurance out. We shall find the money. I am not ready to let your dad go. We may not have the best relationship, but we have forty years of memories. It's a history that is worth fighting for. Faith is what I have and need now. Through faith, miracles will happen." I smiled and felt at peace from her courage. Mum is my first heroine; I always admire her courage and strong willpower. She's rarely given up on any life challenge.

We left the hospital in a much higher spirit than when we arrived; an angel touched our soul. The rest of the afternoon was occupied with calls and paperwork. We held our hopes high with a strong belief that 'a profound faith can conquer the world'. Only through miracles could we have forty-seven thousand dollars in our account within three days. My stomach felt tense as if carrying a ticking time bomb. Counting down to Friday. I spent more time in solitude asking for guidance. My commune time with spirits strengthened my faith. I felt closer to mum and bridged our differences. Life's adversities may not always be welcome occurrences, but they offer chances to enhance relationships and develop special bonds. A period of darkness is vital for our growth, just like a baby's experience inside the mother's womb. It offers opportunities to shine your light and make you a hero reborn.

I woke up just after dawn; I felt restless from tossing and turning all night. My mind kept replaying the earlier phone conversation with our health insurance provider. "I am sorry to tell you this. But the maximum coverage is twenty-seven thousand dollars. You will need to cover the gap of twenty thousand dollars should you wish to proceed with your dad's operation." Those words felt like a life sentence to me. I strained my brains all night, trying to find ways to come up with twenty thousand dollars in less than 24 hours. I quickly swapped my pajamas for gym wear and put on a pair of sneakers; I needed some fresh air.

The early morning weather was a bit chilly yet reinvigorating. I took a light walk around a small oval across my house. It is dark, even with some street lights on. The sun's rays lit up the brilliant colors of the world's hidden wonders under the passing starlit night. It brought a new freshness to the world and offered the chance to start our life afresh once more. I heard the low and soothing voice inside my mind, "You are pure of heart, strong of spirit, and brave. You were born with the exact talents; use them to offer love, peace, and healing to the world. Know that I love you, no matter what." My heart was overflown with gratitude from receiving validation that I am on the right path.

"Hi, can I speak to Sisca, please?" I heard a vibrant female voice. "Yes, it's me. How may I help you?". I replied. "I found your journal at the oval as I walked to a meeting this morning and saw your cell number on the front page. First, I must apologize for invading your privacy because I read your journal. Yes, I understand this is not acceptable. But please allow me to tell you what happened. I am a literary agent, and this morning, I had a meeting with one of the leading publishers. Because my uber ride got stuck in traffic, I decided to get out and walk across the oval. That's when I saw your journal on the bench. I picked it up so I could return it to the owner. As I got to the meeting, your journal fell out of my bag. I saw the page with Rumi's poems. This morning's meeting was to discuss an unusual request to find an expressive and passionate author who can write about Rumi's poems and weave them into daily life. We read your journal and are confident that you are the right author for this book. We would like to reformat your journal into a book with a twenty thousand dollars advance payment. The deadline for manuscript submission is three months." I struggled to listen to the rest of her sentences because those words instantly took me into cloud nine. I took a deep breath, realizing I had been holding my breath since the beginning of the call. My written wish of saving my dad's life manifested miraculously while fulfilling my soul's calling at the same time.