An hour past midnight.
The cold winter winds blew in through the open window & I tightened my grip on the blanket.
My room’s door was shut, the phone placed on my ear turned static. I couldn’t believe the words I just listened to.
“It’s over. I can’t be with you.”
The sentence screamed in my mind and I realized it isn’t a dream. A sudden gasp left my mouth followed by loud sobbing. I knew everyone’s asleep so I muffled my mouth in the blanket.
10 minutes. 15… 20… 30… An hour… Two? Or more? I don’t remember how & when I fell asleep.
A heavenly morning.
All I remember is the next day my room’s door was ajar, the sunlight warming my cold face and illuminating the room with a shade of white. Everything else stood as still as it was last night, only more brighter than ever.
I wondered if I were dreaming it.
“Good morning, Alfred.” Ah, no. Not a dream. I heived a sigh as my mother entered the room.
“Good-” I choked as I witnessed my mother levitate like a feather, her feet didn’t touch the pale ground.
A halo floated over her head.
“Shh. Calm down, Al.”
“No, you’re not dreaming. Here, I brought you nectar, it’ll ease your wounds.”
“I have no wounds.” A little pound in my heart reminded me its state. “Except for my broken heart.”
“It is for those broken pieces.” Her smile radiated happiness. Though an angel, she’s still my naïve, caring mother. I suppressed a laugh and took the silver glass.
As I touched the liquid with my tongue, I recoiled. It’s bitterness was unbearable and everything twisted and turned like a hurricane.
A bright day.
“Easy there. Sit straight, Al.” It was my mother, again. Now in her human form. I gulped down the nectar, ignoring it’s taste and I felt better.
My body, which couldn’t stop shivering, now seemed to have finally got a grip & calmed down.
“You’ll feel better.” My humanly mother, said.
“Was it a dream?”
“I reckon you were dreaming, heard you talking in sleep. Last night, you left the window open and when I entered your room, you were burning hot with fever. Tried keeping the temperature down with a wet cloth but I think my grandma’s magic soup still works the best.” Her laugh was melodic. “I overheard you last night, sorry. But it’s going to be alright, you know.”
I gave her a puzzled look, realizing only her angelic part was a dream. The tragic call was a reality.
“If people in your life want to stay, they will stay even if they have a million reasons not to. But when they don’t want to, they’ll make reasons of their own. Don’t feel bad for what happened, Al. You couldn’t change her decision. You loved her, truly, I know. Yet you are far too young to keep mourning. As you’ll grow, people will take leave from your life at every nodes. They’ll change their paths and bid you farewell. And when they do, you can’t hold on to them or you’ll lose your own balance. Get well soon, honey. I’m always there for you, a door away.”
“Mom” I called her as she stood up to leave. “Happy mother’s day.”
First of all, I’d love to wish a very very Happy Mother’s Day to every angel. There’s something truly heavenly about them which is why they need to respected & loved & reminded of it, everyday. :’)
Second of all, I’d like to apologize for not posting often these days. Also, The Secret Sister of Awan Alee, is at hold due to my examinations. But I promise once the exams are done I’ll be back with daily posts as usual & complete the series!
©The Honest Fabler
©Image Source – Google Images