"mama, four winters had already passed, you told me papa is coming home on second. " i spoke, staring into my mom's glistening eyes as she hums a christmas song.
I was so small, and trying to warm myself up on the small woodburning stove infront of me. My father never come back after sailing in the big ship. I was hoping he'll come back home soon.
She halted her rocking chair, "i didn't tell you anything, my child. Your papa will not come home..yet."
"But--"
"Let's prepare the dough, shall we? Come."
Mama never paid attention whenever I asked about him. Does mama love him? Did he go away far from us? My mind kept on asking these questions.
And then my whole self suddenly got paralyzed as she turned to me, crying.
"Papa is in paradise, he's in where your grandmother is."
Those memories flashed once again, for fifteen years on Christmas Eve.
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reasons | poetry
Poetry"My heart is like an autumn leaf. Fragile and easy to fall.."
