Fleeting Momemts

I have always sought a quiet place, a place where all you hear is silence, a place you often see on book covers.

We had only three houses close to each other, one of which was ours. Around us were open fields for as far as I could see. Quiet can be daunting sometimes. This was what I felt here. It was always quiet, like we were mourning. There have been fair shares of beautiful mornings and rainy days but it was always silent. The nights were worse.

I am scared of the dark, pretty much like how a child is, but my reasons are different. I wasn’t before. At some point in time, I let the fear claw into me; there have been innumerable times when the husband would be away and I would be up all night. It felt like someone was watching me and it’s not a feeling that’s settles in easy. On such days, one call to that one friend would give me some peace.

I had seen ma fight anxiety. We were in this together, my little brother, my father, and I. Ma wouldn’t sleep. She would stay up all night gazing and moving from one window to the other. She was troubled and we were worried.

We are all soldiers in our own right; fighting battles unknown to the world. Mothers are the best of the lot, they carry the world on their shoulders.

As kids, we were no respite to her. There were kids who would mind their business, play with their legos, organize fake tea parties and then there was us. We were experimental. We would keep her on her toes.  The brother had once torched the bed; matchsticks were new to him and he was learning how to light them. That wasn’t the end of it, he tried to put off the fire with filtered water because regular water wasn’t good enough for this pious act.

I sometimes wonder why our mother didn’t get a toddler harness (fancy name for baby leash) for us (Toddler parents please take note, set an example, and pave the way for the future).

Ma is the calm, which I have always sought. This solitude had taken me back to those untangled times when she was all we knew.

As I end my post, I am constantly reminded of the day I left her nest to make my own.

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One Comment Add yours

  1. Remembered how I had been a quiet child, most of the time. And yes, Mothers do tend to bear the weight of the world on their shoulders.

    Liked by 1 person

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