My Diary of Sweet Nothings

Little Delilah

.

....Hey there Delilah 

What's it like in New York City? 

I'm a thousand miles away 

But girl, tonight you look so pretty 

Yes you do 

Times Square can't shine as bright as you 

I swear it's true...

       The mother hummed the tune so lightly that it seemed like a tune from the wind chimes. She sat near the cot close to the pink goose feathered pillow. She sat on the wooden rocking chair humming the little tune. Her white night gown flowed over her body like a waterfall and the hem line beautifully fell on her feet. She rocked her baby's cot back and forth, slowly over and over again. She named her 3 year old daughter Delilah because she thought it sounded like a flower a beautiful one.

       As she kept on rocking and singing the tune, in her head she started going over all the activities she and Delilah did. She thought about the Sunday baking sessions when she would bake little tarts and pies for her dear one and how her little baby would walk behind her holding the end of her mommy's skirt. All her little curly mob of hair falling all over her caramel eyes. And when she would be too excited she would clap her hands. The different noises she could make. These thoughts were swimming in her head.

      The mother carefully picked herself up and walked towards the white closet with pale green butterflies on it. She turned the knob and opened the closet door. In front of her were her daughter's clothes all hung perfectly according to colours. White at first, then came the yellow, then came five pinks and then a red. Beneath the dresses laid perfectly folded blue and green woolen sweaters. She picked a green one and held it with both of her hands in front of her. After a minute or so, she brought it closer and rubbed it against her cheek. She smelled it and it smelled like fresh picked berries.

         She remembered the time when she first held her baby, Delilah in her arms. She yawned. Yes! A toothless yawn. To think she made her, that beautiful creature in her arms it gave her a sense of pride and courage. It's a feeling so rare. Her eyes were deep blue like the pacific ocean. When she was riding home from hospital in the run down Cadillac she imagined everything her daughter could be a writer traveling Paris, she imagined her on the Eiffel tower or maybe, she imagined her as the President. Her imagination was flowing wild in her well of thoughts. She imagined her holding milk bottles, coke cans and some day coffee cups.

       Yes! She imagined everything that her daughter could be. She even imagined Delilah marrying, marrying a sweet brunette boy with green eyes who would someday hold her grandchild. She thought that someday years hence she and her grandchild would sit in a backyard near a lake and blow dandelion and wish on wishes. The Cadillac came to a stop and she knew she reached home. She pulled in near the pavement. As she climbed out she noticed the sky was dark, it was raining and the smell of pine was in the air. She quickly opened the latch of the baby seat and picked little Delilah up and trotted to the dark brown door. Opening the door she exhaled. She was unconditionally happy. The future was right ahead of her she felt like she could touch it. But now the future was still a seed, a very tender and lovable seed, the future was Delilah or so she thought.

The smell of berries, coming back to the sweater. She folded it again and kept it in its previous place. She took one look at the closet before closing and then again walked back to the cot. Sitting on the rocking chair she started singing again the intoxicating tune,

.......Hey there Delilah 

Don't you worry about the distance 

I'm right there if you get lonely 

Give this song another listen 

Close your eyes 

Listen to my voice, it's my disguise 

I'm by your side......

Pausing she took a long breath and uttered these words, "Delilah someday the rest of the song will be sung by the boy you 'll love. And you 'll fall in love with him everytime he 'll sing this song. Because its your song."

The mother slowly bent down on the empty cot and folded the blanket. Because the blanket wasn't of any use now, because there was no one underneath it whom it could warm. Delilah wasn't there. No, she was in the cemetery buried in the warm soil with an angel watching over her little body.

....Oh it's what you do to me 

Oh it's what you do to me 

Oh it's what you do to me 

Oh it's what you do to me 

What you do to me.....

_____________________________________________________________

Hello!

So as you have noticed I am writing short stories based on songs. Hope you like it. Let me know. Every vote and comment counts . :) Have a great day!

Thanks,

Much love,

Bharbi xXx