Letting Go, Of Stifled Tears

The scent of crushed pines was still vaguely familiar, and as I walked past the towering silhouettes of the trees, an unforgettable charm of winter mornings rose about me. The road before me was empty and unkempt, the rough dirt-track was - as I remembered - strewn with stones and crisp leaves. A wind was about, its arms reaching into the wilderness. Wilderness - what a beautiful word? It resonated everything I had ever known as a child: freedom, life and choice. Perhaps this was what attracted me here, a chance to relive what I had left behind.


~


The room was hung with a light aroma, and the only light was the softened silver of the moon, peeking in from the window. I could feel a presence beside me, gentle and tender, something beautiful in its very familiarity. She had a guitar in her hand - Papa’s guitar - and she began to play, her voice as a lovely as the mellow chirp of birds.

“Hush now my child, hold back those tears,
just close your eyes, and shake off those fears,
in the joy and in the sorrow, be here in your cradle,
tell those merry dreams, don’t go away,
you’ll meet the angels, on a sweet day,
so just drift away, to a deep, deep sleep.”

I would not hear the song; just snuggle into the comfort and drift away to meet the angels.



~


It seemed nothing had changed over the last eleven years. The wild birds flew here and there, greeting the rising sun with their foreign songs. I had been walking for two hours, but my feet were not even weary. I had a hunger to look into the rubble of my life, a drive to see past the shadows. I could see the house; it was just where I left it, nestled in a small clearing by the road. The only difference I could spot from this far was the brick chimney, no puffs of smoke emitted from its mouth.

As I came near, I noticed more changes. The front door seemed to be off it’s hinges, the wooden logs were mere wrecks, eaten away by a decade of neglect, the railings were rusted iron and one half of the front room had come to the ground. I could see no one had ever been here since I left.


~


I burst the front doors open, coming outside into the chilled air with a gleeful look on my face. As far as the eye could see, everything was blanketed with white snow. Little flakes still seemed to be coming from the sky. I had always loved the winter; it was a sudden welcomed change, with shivery mornings and hot baths, and long nights to snuggle into warm beds.

She came outside too, her eyes smiling as she saw me playing. Her cheeks were always rosy, and the winter chill made them red apples. She would sit in the sun while I would play, sewing or perhaps reading. Those were peaceful times.


~


I entered into the living room. It was a strange feeling - bitter and cold, yet so satisfying. I had yearned to come back here, reminisce and finally go on. The memories were still wafting beneath my conscious, in dreams and in the smallest of things that life offered – sipping warm tea, basking in the sun and seeing mothers bustle over their children.

To my surprise some of the old furniture was still there, eaten away but still sustaining in skeleton form. The stairs had cracked and crumbled, but the upper portions seemed fine. I set my rucksack on the floor and sat down myself. It was here that I had celebrated my ninth birthday. It was also here that my life became a mere stamping of feet.


~


Her frail body rested before me, hands as pale as the moon, lips pouted and eyes closed. At least she was finally free. There were two other men in the room, one was an herbalist from the town and the other was an unfamiliar stranger. I could see no sadness in their eyes, just business.

As they carried the body outside, I went to our room upstairs. Adorned with colorless pictures of Papa, it was simply adorned. There it was - a small, folded piece of paper; Mama had told me to read if she was gone.

Son,
There are no words that can describe how much I feel for you. It was time for me to go, since the God had called me. There is not much I can give you, ‘cept blessings and love –

I folded the piece of paper and carried it downstairs, eyes stained with tears. I could not bear to listen to this. Picking up a small metal container from the kitchen, I placed the letter inside and buried it.

~


I had come back to read the letter. Finally, it was time to let go of the past. Picking myself up form the floor, I creaked my way into the battered kitchen and out the back door. I could see the old willow tree, still bent and withering. I began digging at it’s feet.

I found the box.

I opened the letter.

I began to read.


Son,
There are no words that can describe how much I feel for you. It was time for me to go, since the God had called me. There is not much I can give you, ‘cept blessings and love. I cannot make promises, knowing that they won’t come true. I know you will make bad choices, but you will also make good ones, and those are what will count. The hardest part will not be missing me, but remembering the times we had together. I cannot tell you what to do and what not to do. Just remember, when the roads break into two, follow your heart. I am waiting for you somewhere; and I promise we will be together. But for now, live onwards.

With blessings
Mama




I had dreaded goodbyes till now. For eleven years, I had waited for this day, when I must forget. I folded the paper again and dropped it onto the ground. Turning my back towards it, I began walking in the direction of the house, picked up my rucksack and headed back. Mama was right; it was time to carry on.



~



I’m gonna carry on, just carry on …