Maggie Lawson is a 42 year old serial breeder with more baggage than offspring. In between birthin' and breakdowns she writes, primarily to vent her dark side and prevent a reoccurance of 'the incident'. Maggie is from Christchurch, New Zealand and started writing in March 2009. She would like to thank the folks at Scrawl for introducing her to organic writing. It is only due to their help and support that she is able to take her shit and recycle it into something useful.

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Moksha, My Love (July 20, 2010. Issue 19.)

The stubble on his face rakes against my cheek and I can smell Summer on his breath as he exhales a warm breeze. I let my eyes close and my fingers glide up through his thick dark hair. At the top of his scalp I feel the nub of the shunt hidden within the locks. I whisper a prayer of gratitude to my ishta devata before kissing Jimmy on the cheek.

"I love you, Jimmy."

"Ugh," grunts Jimmy.

I smile and turn to the stove, checking that dinner hasn't spoiled during our embrace.

"Curried prawns, Jimmy. Your favorite."

Jimmy grunts again and I smile. That's my man; the strong silent type.

"After dinner I'll run you a nice bath and give you a shave. Sound good? Yeah, I thought you'd like that. I'm just gonna go fix myself for dinner. Be right back, my love."

In the bathroom I rinse the flannel and wipe my face. There was a time when I wouldn't look at myself in the mirror, but now -- now I find myself smiling back at the reflection. I know I'm no beauty. Homely. But I'm okay with homely because I have been given a gift. My ishta devata heard my prayers and gave me the gift of moksha. Now Jimmy and I can be happy together. We have been granted release from the worldly demons, asuras, that tried to keep us apart.

I change into a clean cotton dress and pin back my hair before dishing up dinner. Jimmy still needs a little help with eating but that's a minor side-effect and should subside soon.

"Open your mouth. Good, there you go." I wipe away escaping sauce that weaves its way through the stubble maze.

As promised, after dinner I run Jimmy's bath and help him undress. Buttons are still tricky for him. As he soaks in the tub I slip out of the room and clear the dining table. I get the glass jar from under the kitchen sink and take it through to the back room where my ishta devata lives. I light incense and drop to my knees. My prayers are hushed but no less sincere.

After prayers I lift the red velvet cloth and smile at the serpent within the glass cage. Reaching inside I grasp the snake behind her head and milk her venom into the glass jar. The opaque fluid runs down the sides of the glass and pools at the bottom. I remember when ishta devata first answered my prayers.

Jimmy and I were meant to be together but the asuras had made him blind to me. They poisoned his mind and intoxicated him with the allure of she-devils. One day, while lost in meditation my tears fell on the glass and my ishta devata spoke to me and showed me how we could both receive the gift of moksha. I could be released from my heartache and Jimmy could be released from his blindness.

I return the snake to her cage and begin to prepare the formula just a She had told me, one part venom and two parts tears.

I fill the syringe with the mixture and carry it through to the bathroom. I part Jimmy's hair and remove the cap from the shunt. I had been so nervous the first time, mostly because of the drill. I was terrified I'd go too far and hurt him but I needn't have worried. My ishta devata was watching.

I screw the end of the syringe into the shunt's opening and slowly depress the plunger. The hot bath helps the process and eases the convulsions. I finish delivering the mixture and quickly replace the shunt's cap. It's not good to have the cap off when he has a seizure, we learned that the hard way.

"There you go my love."

"Ugh," grunted Jimmy.

I smile and kiss his forehead. "I love you too, sweetheart."