Just when you're done making bucketloads of lemonade, life sends a gift basket full of lemons. And the tag reads "With love".

It's true. Everything seemed to be going just fine (by cosmic standards) when suddenly, like pieces of Dominoes, things started to fall apart.

First, it was the Doomsday Decision followed by lots and lots and lots of tears. I really didn't think i had it in me to cry like i did. And, surprisingly, i don't think i'm done crying. Then it was hours of confoundedness and terrible confusion and heartache (in the middle of which i get a missed call from what seemed to be an Australian number), followed by a brave move.

I have the permission, the blessings of my parents, the freedom to live on my own, play house and go berserk setting the place up. The dream of a lifetime. But at what price? It meant breaking away from the familiar, leaving behind a life i'd known for 28 years and had built with love, pain and numerous indulgences. It meant venturing into the unknown. Well, almost, not entirely. It meant that i would have to be stronger, calmer, more focused, more level-headed, more indifferent, hatred-free and consciously happy. I must be raving mad to contemplate the move.

But then, you have to understand that i'm a sucker for new experiences. I NEED to try everything once. Okay, almost everything. And i've wished to stay on my own for the longest time. So when i think of moving, i'm only full of anticipation and absolute excitement. No dread. No fear. No second thoughts.

Just as i zero in on what it is i want to do, the basket of lemons arrives.

Two nights ago, while i was staying at a friend's place, my mother had an attack of the sweaties. Profuse perspiration, weakness, numb hands and disorientation. Dad, who needs taking care of, was taking care of her instead. 3 in the morning, he was using a hair dryer to warm her hands. Her sugar had dropped rock bottom. And i only got to know this the next evening. Afraid, and as a consequence, angry, i confronted my dad and asked him why he didn't call. How can we call you at 3 in the morning?, he asked. So what? He just shook his head in a "no" and walked away. I was the same city, just 45 minutes away. And they still hadn't called.

It's scary, really. And it's making me think harder about whether i want to go. Whether i HAVE to go. It's not going to be as easy as just packing my bags and heading out. It's not going to be a week-long holiday.