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The spring hasn’t arrived yet.

 everyone says its spring, but its never been the same for me, not since my mother passed away.

The park’s ponds haven’t thawed. The flowers haven’t bloomed. The sun, still in slumber.

They say the song of spring is there, yet the only song that I hear is that of a lonely heart.

 

With each beat, my hands grow colder. I can no longer feel the warmth of my mother’s hand in mine.

 

What a terrible curse it is to have the ability to remember all that you have experienced as an infant. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much if I didn’t recall her. Waking up to my mother’s beautiful amber eyes that outshone the sun. Her sweet touches, her silky hair. Her every word was music to my ears.

 


And here I am,

 

A cold morning, just like every other. Holding these crutches instead of my mother’s soft hands.

 

I came here to walk to forget my loneliness and to forget my pain. 

 

Has it already been a month?

A whole month since I last ran in this park, since I became the regional bronze medalist? I miss the wind in my face, I miss the running. I want to become an athlete again. I want to see the glimmer of the crowd cheering for me when I receive that gold medal… will my dream remain just that, a dream? Now all I’m haunted by is the headlight of the car that snatched away that ambition… I have no aim anymore, I feel empty.

 

The park is empty which is normal for an odd hour like this one. I don’t usually walk in the park and never at this time.

 

Why did I even come here? Looking back this wasn’t such a great idea… my injuries haven’t even healed yet. 

 

This is pathetic... wandering aimlessly at dusk. 

 

Mother usually liked coming to the park at dawn. Before the sun had risen.

What’s the use of coming at an hour like this?! I can’t see the flowers, I can’t hear the birds,

 

And,

 

I’m alone……. again.

….

 

Oh well I tried! Let’s get back home to a warm quilt and some good old Netflix… If my internet still worked…. Maybe if-

 

“OUCHH!!”

…..

 

My arms and legs feel numb, my back hurts.

I’m staring at a canopy and a starless sky, have I tripped?

The landing wasn’t so awful.

 

What’s awful are the bleak streetlights. What color is that even?

 

Okay now it hurts….

 

Where are my crutches?

 

“Wonderful! Just wonderful!”

 

Can this day get any better? Darn that rock, darn those crutches.

 

I can’t even walk right now, and god expects me to go take a swim in the icy waters of a pond on a cold spring evening.

 

“I appreciate the offer but-”

 

At least one crutch hasn’t fallen in.

 

“If I can just-”

 

No... it’s too far.

 

 

I struggle with all my might to get back on to my feet, giving it my all.

I try to search for something to hold on to, anything. And I reach out frantically in my desperate attempts to grab on to something, anything…anyone? 

 

I will just wait here till someone comes to the park and helps me up.

This position is pretty comfortable anyway...

If the footpath weren’t so cold.

 

There are plenty of joggers that come to this park. I hope they would be up for an evening stroll.


They better not take too long though. I'm getting late to get home.

 

Who am I kidding? It’s not like someone is waiting for me at home.

 

I remember my infant days when my mother would hold my hand and make me walk.

I was 1 year and 12 days old when I became curious enough to try and discover the world around me on my own two little feet.

 

She’d hold my hands and guide me through the maze of the small room we lived in.

 

I’d stumble and fall but you were always there… You were always there, mother. To wipe my tears, to pick me up and dust my knees.

 

Whenever I'd fall, you’d help me back up. Even if I fell with a loud thump and began crying. whenever I saw your bright and mesmerizing eyes shine at me, they radiated hope and kindness.

My heart was like a flower that bloomed in the sunlight of your eyes.

 

I’d grip your hand with all my might and give it another shot. 

 

Mother if you were here. Would you have held my hands and helped me back up again...?

 

Why am I crying?

 

With each tear that drops on the cold pavement my body shivers and trembles.

 I’m feeling colder than I already was.

 

Time seems irrelevant now… I’m not sure how long it’s been, the moonless night makes grim the already gloomy situation. 

 

Those tears, they sit idle like this lifeless park. Cold and miserable.

 

…Huh? Why did the tear sparkle?

It shines in the light…

Light? this can't be the bleak streetlight.

What is this light? Is it already time for sunrise?

 

How long have I been here? 

 

And all of a sudden, my train of thought stopped… it doesn’t matter anymore.

 

It’s beautiful… The sunlight.

 

It’s fragile streak of amber struggling through the horizon to bring forth the morning.

 

“mother…”

 

It’s mesmerizing...

What is this feeling? 

 

What am I doing?!

 

I remind my fragile body as I rise.

 

“I’m not weak”

 

I remind my strength filled body as I rise,

 

“ and I’m not alone.”

 

I stand on my own two feet. This newfound strength…. The memory of my mother still lives within me, and she has once again lent me strength.  

 

The world around me lights up as I watch the rays break free and spread across the world around me. 

 

Darkness surrenders to the light and my heart surrenders to the music of my world. My weakness has given in and the athlete within me has awoken once again.

I want to run, but I can’t and so I’ll walk, but I won’t be alone again and I refuse to give up. These memories, this view… it gives me strength.

 

I see the flowers bloom. I can hear the melody of a thousand hearts and the song of the morning birds.

 

I feel the warmth of the sunlight on the palm of my hand, like that of mother’s touch.


 Yes...

“The spring has arrived”

April 03, 2020 22:28

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6 comments

Nandini Singh
19:13 Apr 11, 2020

Love ittttttttt

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Amany Sayed
22:13 Apr 08, 2020

This was a very interesting story. I found it a little confusing when it shifted from talking to the mother to talking about the mother, but other than that it was a great story.

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Sabah Pathan
11:53 Apr 06, 2020

Lovely empathetic story, love the wordplay and depth. Good luck 👍

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Raito Xyz
11:38 Apr 07, 2020

I wouldn't call that spacing conventional; however, I love the way it paces the story. Love the many layers of conflict. Also, the beginning and end are really artistic. All in all good story.

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Aayisha Anees
13:40 Apr 06, 2020

Really loved it😍

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Aayisha Anees
13:40 Apr 06, 2020

An amazing and beautiful story👌👍👍

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