Cherries, Maws and Butterflies

Unforgiving Rain

It was cruel. It was cold. It was questionable.

I can't believe I'm here again, in this nightmare, this lucid dream. It's always the same – the same rain, the same building, the same hospital, "Cherries, Maws & Butterflies," the name of the hospital where I was born, where my aunt works as a dentist, where my mother got her head injury's surgery, where I remember being a kid and getting my wounds treated, and in whose courtyard my trauma sets.

Trauma.

I learnt the word from my aunt, when I saw her running towards me in the courtyard, with an umbrella in her white coat, she was, a doctor after all, an intern, at that time, now a good dentist. When my mother, I don't remember now for what reason, made me stand in the rain for 6 hours straight, when I was merely 11.

"Happy?" she called for me, when she saw me there, when I told her what happened, she understood. "you're traumatised!" she said, later after a few months of that incident, and I acted up one day because of rain. "I'd give your mum an earful if she didn't have a head injury" she said, on the brink of tears.

It was so painfully obvious that she was lying. She would never be able to give my mother an earful. She loves her so. when my aunt's mother died, my mother was 28 and my aunt was 17.

so, My mother, basically parented her.

my mother was almost her mother too. In her own words, "when my parents worked for my well being and school fees, I sometimes felt bad. But I felt real pain when I saw your mother take up the job of parenting me, lose her youth, pay my school fees, be my legal guardian, help me when my dad gave me trauma, work late hours, and I didn't manage to get good grades. I felt like  burden..."

and when my mother got a head injury, and her surgery side effects are acting up now, I'm 17 and my aunt's 28.

so, she's basically parenting me. Before, I felt that maybe, she just wanted to do it because she owed my mother something, but I was wrong. It was my mother who took care of my aunt because she had no choice. My aunt honestly loved me, cared for me.

how do I know?

whenever, my parents fought , about parenting and dad would say somthing like,

"I thought you were better at this! you have a bit of an experience!"

she would say something like,

"I never had a choice! all I wanted to do was dump her at an orphanage, but she had the eyes of my mother, and I felt guilty..."

I never said this to my aunt, though.

and everytime it rains, I find myself in this dream, replaying that day, again and again.

I wouldn't actually call it a dream, or a nightmare, because I felt it,

The relentless downpour soaking through my clothes, chilling me to the bone as I stood there,

I looked at my young frame shivering against the harsh elements. The droplets of rain mirrored the tears that welled in my eyes, a silent testimony to the emotional tempest raging within.

And, I wanted to go there, hug her and say,

 you're okay, you're fine, you've got me, I've got your back.

come to me, my younger self, let me give you all the love your worth...

I could hear the distant rumble of thunder, the ominous soundtrack to the desolation that surrounded me. The cold droplets fell mercilessly, mingling with the salty rivulets streaming down my cheeks, or our cheeks. My mother's rage echoed in my ears, her harsh words still lingering like a bitter aftertaste.

even from this far, I could see, I could hear my mother

"Stand there until you learn your lesson!" she had spat, her eyes ablaze with an anger I couldn't comprehend. The world around the younger me blurred with the tears and rain, creating an indistinct canvas of pain and confusion.

As I stood in that desolate courtyard, the facade of the hospital loomed overhead – a place that should have been synonymous with healing, now tainted by the memories of an unforgiving act. The dimly lit sign above the entrance flickered, casting eerie shadows on the wet pavement.

I couldn't fathom why I was being subjected to this torment. The rain intensified, as if the heavens themselves were weeping for the innocence lost. My mind drifted to the safety of my aunt, Sika, and the haven she represented. But she was nowhere to be seen, leaving me alone to face the relentless storm – both within and outside.

Then I saw my younger self, whom I like to call 'Blue', look around, my heart broke, for I know what she wanted to see, or should I say, whom. 

My aunt, she also came up to me on that fateful night, with an umbrella. She wasn't good with words, she wasn't comforting. But her presence was enough for me to feel good, to feel that parental love I wished for. She also is the one to wake me up from this dream, everytime I get into it. My savior, I have her saved on my phone.

She was, had been and most definetly will be whom I will look up to as a genuine friend...


no.

scratch that, 

as a Mother.