Cold tea

8.23 am

Getting up, I tremble with the arctic feeling that crept up my spine like a wet spider on a slippery surface. When I look to my right I take a glimpse of what I have become. I force my scarf to entangle around me while I touched one wrinkle near my worn-out smile… I go closer. The closer I get, more flaws the distant mirror reflected.

‘Sei così bella’ he echoes in my mind.

But I’m not so beautiful now. There was a time that I looked up at night to see the stars with you, holding hand in hand while our fingers interlaced. You sang to me in tunes that made hours feel like minutes and I’m still wondering how a voice could sound this astonishing. I was hopelessly, romantically, engulfed in you.

The suppressing feeling I get, they say is because I’m no longer the woman I was before, I am simply tired. When I know, the stifling feeling is the emptiness you left for me to embrace.

10.45 am

I hurry up my pace, waiting impatiently. There’s so much of void in this room that I cannot begin to fathom, I’ve been waiting for weeks now. What was missing? I immediately look at the mirror once more. Few strands of grey hair fall over my crumpled cheek which made me wonder about the times you laughed. You laughed merrily and tucked my hair behind the ear and said,

‘Sei così bella’

Am I still ?

11.32 am

How long should I wait? is this desperation I feel? A mere feeling of isolation that one adapts to feel sorry for themselves. I recall the first time I saw you carrying a rifle in that soldier suit of yours. Even though my conscience worried about when I’ll see you again, I put on a smile and said you looked handsome. You really did, Harold.

The morning sun has now begun to attack in brighter rays of sunshine. I take no cover, for my skin no longer radiated nor my eyes reflected the happiness I once had. Once again I walk over to the pile of letters you sent me, still beautifully wrapped but inside was hollowed. The old ink mocked me, disappearing to the same place you went without warning me about how gut-wrenching it would make me feel.

2.06 pm

The time is leisurely ticking at its own pace, while my crouched back still rocked the arm-chair. The creaking sound made me wonder if someone opened a door…

So I get up with much effort put into the small task and touch the wall for support as I walk. I wanted to use my other hand to feel my hip that burnt with agony every time I stepped, but I clutched the letters close to my chest instead. When I reached the small wooden door, it was clear no one was here. You’ve been gone for 34 years, my love, oh how I wanted you to knock at this very door to tell me that my weakened eyes were still the most aesthetic feature than you’d love amidst of the night skies. Feeling a heavy tear at the brink of falling, I blink vigorously to prevent it from falling. It escapes anyway and rolls down my wrinkles and on to the smooth floor. You are still why my heart feels so much yet cares so little for anything else.

2.56 pm

I decide to ignore the rustling sounds the greenery outside makes every time the wind unclasped them. Nevertheless, I kept drawing my curtains to see what I believed I could see. I let my hopes break my heart more than the strands of hair I had on my head when I saw nothing but my own reflection ever so close. When I sighed, the mist-like breath clouded the window, but it didn’t waver my attention for a second. Slowly but surely, I turn my back to the window-sill and sits. Despite the warmth I was feeling, I shiver uncontrollably as I glanced at your picture from afar. I shivered not from the cold, but with the burden of so much to remember. Skies are now just less marvelous, and no touch embraced me like yours. Every day I watched the sky-line split in two, praying that we’d unite once again to remind me of what being in high spirits meant. You’re on the other side, but I knew I’d sing to you if you were here by me.

5.38 pm

It’s been hours…my place was dark and the two cups of tea I made has gone cold. Covering my feeble body with the same old scarf you gave me long ago, I take the cups to my hands, not forgetting to hold the letters tightly to me. Instead of walking towards the sink to throw the cold tea, I bent and set it down.

I couldn’t bare this piercing emptiness that punished me for missing you deeply. So, I let the tears flow down my discolored face and on to the floor, letting my old heart weep for the distance I now share with you after you passed.

6.04 pm

The atmosphere abruptly shifted.

As I grieved, I felt the floor creak. The kind of creak that makes you forget about the surroundings and gaze for a good minute. The kind of creak that makes you smile despite myriad solitary feelings that you experienced day after day. The kind of creak that I’ve been longing to hear.

When the footsteps become heavier, so does my heart. He looked exactly like his you, dear. I wanted to tell him about how you made the night sky livelier than it ever could be, how you sang to me with a voice richer than anyone could imagine. When he stood stood tall with a smile so warm, it was as if I was looking at the younger you. He embraced my wrecked body and cradled it with care that made me release the letters you wrote me, for I’m holding something more precious.

He looked at me, smiling, he said,

‘Sei così bella, Madre’

(you look beautiful, mother)