Saturday, March 15, 2008,
7:01 AM
I'm so sorry... To keep my blog alive, I have decided to start on a new story. I really can't think of more to write for the previous story... I'll put it aside for now, and maybe, maybe next time I'll continue on it. This one's really long, so bear with me. There's no title for now.Last but not least, see the new cbox :)
If you think this is going to be a romantic novel, please, close this window and never look at it again. Don't read this unless you are well prepared. I am Lilac. This is my story, this is my life.
Did you ever touch a mimosa plant? If you did, I'm sure you saw the way its leaves closed, as if hiding from you. Then, after it is sure you are gone, it will open again. The mimosa in my garden will never open again, I'm sure. They closed for eternity on the day half my life chipped away.
"Oh, mimosa, how pretty you look, swaying in the wind!" Rose, my sister who was just at the tender age of four, chirped as she danced around in the garden, at clear view of Mother, who was washing the dishes in the kitchen while looking out of the window. Those innocent days were like bright sunshine: I, then twelve, loved to stay up in my room, sketching pictures. "Lilac, someday you will be a great artist..." Mother had told me lovingly as she framed up another one of my artwork. That day, I was in the garden with Rose, drawing her as she played. Mother had set out lunch for us, which we were to have at noon. At that time, 'play' was the only word that crossed our minds, and we frolicked in the garden in happy obscurity.
"Lil! Mother's fallen asleep, look!" Rose, knowing no better, pointed in the direction of our cottage, stifling a laugh. I was old enough to know the cruel ways of the world, however. When I looked through the window and saw Mother lying on the kitchen floor with a shattered plate beside her, I knew that she was more than just sleeping. I ran into the house immediately, Rose following me inquisitively as if we were playing a game of tag.
"Mother?" I called, shakily. Her face was pale and ashen, and those beautiful eyes of hers tightly shut. I wished I could shout to 'Father' for help, but there was no 'Father'. Mother was a widow. When silence greeted me, I ran to her side, holding her hand tightly as if it would help. "Mother... Mother..." I called helplessly. I stroked her auburn hair, touched her porcelain face, even kissed her tender cheek trying to wake her up. "Will Mother wake up if I give her a hug?" Rose waddled over to Mother, embracing her still figure. My tears came uncontrollably now, and I hugged Rose. "Mother's gone," I said through sobs. "She's never coming back." As if to prove my point, her breath wasn't there when I checked it. Never did I see my mother's smiling face again.
Six days later, we held her funeral. We, as in Rose and I. Mother had lived in the remote countryside, and there wasn't even a single human being in sight of our house. It was just the three of us living together, getting all the things we needed from the town market miles and miles away. Being the children that we were, we didn't know how to get there. No relatives came to the funeral. Not even a priest to lay her to rest and wish her Godspeed to Heaven. I dug a grave for her, and lifted her body with much difficulty into it. When I threw the dirt back on after laying a blanket to cover the body, Rose tugged at my sleeve, crying. "Why're you covering Mother with dirt? She likes to be clean, Lil. She always asks us to take baths." Ignoring her, I finished the grave, kneeling on the ground and sobbing uncontrollably again. Mother, why did you have to leave? Why you, and not I?Labels: Lilac