Georgia took a last long glance at her cozy apartment and smiled. She had been able to put it all in order with a few minutes to spare.
Her apartment wasn't all that rich, but it was adequate and breathtakingly clean. One would think she had a touch of OCD. Her curtains were pink, so was her sofa and the little panda decor that hung from the wall. A girly girl she was — unashamedly and proudly. A shelf with neatly arranged books stood close to the wall. She was a lover of romantic fiction, an ardent believer in love.
The sound of her alarm — grinnnnnn, grinnnnnn — brought her back from her fulfilling self-appraisal. Shoot! She had to be on her way. With a quick move, her door was shut, and off she went.
Georgia was a thin girl with a heart bigger than her. You could tell from how the neighbours greeted her on the way, and how she smiled from end to end. One time, she even saved a bird that had hurt its wing by moving it off the sidewalk. She was just like that.
Her day proceeded just as planned. Book in hand on the bus ride to her farm, she ticked off the things she had done on her to-do list and set her heart to achieve what was left.
Georgia was a farmer. Not only did she have a big heart, she had a big farm. Hers was a fish farm with over ten tanks in her care, and care she did. Her fish babies were her all. Feeding them every morning was the best part of her day. Watching her face light up as she fed them was brighter than sunshine, even on the sunniest day. She was a girly farmer girl who loved what she did.
Another grinnn grinnnn from her cellphone startled her and her fish babies, who dove back into the water and stopped eating for some time.
She picked up her phone. It was her sister, her number one fan and bestie. Her smile was unfiltered as she answered the call. What met her ears were sobbing sounds. What happened to her cheerful, lively sis? She tried to speak, but for some seconds she was dazed and in shock.
Her voice finally found courage, but before she could utter a word, "Mum had a stroke and is in the hospital" filtered into her ear. The bowl of feed fell from her hands, alongside everything around her. Her heart palpitations were all she could hear. It was like she was dancing to the rhythm of its beat — except she wasn't dancing at all.
Dejected and beaten, she picked up her broken self and made her way to be with her family. Fear could not describe how she felt. Confused was a little close, but distraught seemed to hit closer to home. God help me, she prayed silently.
Her siblings had all arrived, and she arrived last. They explained that Mum's blood pressure had spiralled out of control, sending her into a partial stroke. Their voices were like an emotional music that seemed to erupt the volcano of her tear glands. Georgia wept.
"Mum will be fine," her elder sister Jane said.
They spent three weeks in the hospital, alongside all of their savings. Her mum had lost motion on the right side of her body and needed physiotherapy to recover. It was a slow road, but she could not be more grateful to God for it.
Friends visited, her neighbours called, and the church prayed. God had heard them, and she was thankful. Another thing she was thankful for was Paul — her business partner, who held the fort in her absence. He assured her things were fine, and that brought her peace.
A week later, they were discharged. Her mum was wheeled out, still recovering, but the whole family was full of joy.
Georgia had missed her house — the familiar scent of her room, the warmth of her sheets. Her first night back in her apartment felt like a dream come true.
The new day came, and she was eager to go to the farm. She had missed her babies. She dialed Paul twice, but it failed to connect. "He's probably busy and forgot to charge his phone," she said out loud.
Georgia could not believe her eyes. The more she looked, the less she saw. The more she thought, the harder it became to understand.
The farm was empty. Empty and void of life. Everything was gone.
Hot tears rolled down her eyes. With faith, she called Paul again, and again, and again — but met the same dead end.
Paul had swindled her, sold off everything, and was now at large. How sad.
Not only was she broke, now she was in debt. What would she say to her investors?
Georgia's nice apartment now lay in emptiness. She had sold off her valuables and was moving what was left to go live with her sister.
In two months, her picture-perfect life was now in need of a miraculous makeover. First the tsunami of her mother's illness. Now the tornado of being defrauded, with a sprinkle of bankruptcy.
What a season of natural disasters. A perfect graduation from frying pan to fire.
Someone, help.
Every word of this is true. I am Georgia, and Georgia is me. I wrote her story in third person because some days, it still feels like it happened to someone else — like watching my own life from a careful distance was the only way I could tell it.
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