Under The Moonlight

She looked at the moonlight beaming on the sea. It looked like a road disappearing in the darkness of the horizon. The stared night and the calming sound of the waves giving her that strange feeling; life was all in that one moment. All the sorrow and all the sweetness brought her to that one night, sitting in front of the ocean, a gentle breeze touching her hair as the hand of her daughter in her last moments on earth. She can feel her heart aching with the memory coming so strong, so intense. She feels angry for being alive, but it vanishes quickly when she focus her thoughts in her daughter’s eyes shinning like little suns; her spirit so intensely alive. Oh, how much she wants to embrace her, protect her from all evil and pain of this world. The salty taste of her tears reminds her of her daughter’s warm tears in her cheek. She was living now in everything, in every breath, in every beat of her heart. It was almost unbearable the feeling of her absence so present. It became a presence in itself; that feeling covering everything like a veil of dust, like snow.

She holds a piece of her daughter’s hair, she can smell her scent. She remembers folding her clothes, storing her few belongings, the silence in the room engulfing her. She was so young, so full of life. Why her? Why not somebody else’s daughter? Why, why, why?!…it makes it all so pathetic. The world running careless, life still going on in its lack of meaning. Her feelings killing her in every second; nothing to hold on, no words providing comfort. She is lost in a strangely familiar world, a ghost pretending to be alive. She was never superstitious but she is feeling cursed and the object of fun of something she can’t reach, she can’t fight. The word fate is so heavy now. Fate is what you can’t avoid but need to cope with and, still, try to move on when there is nothing left. But why to move on when everything that matters is gone?

Children should always outlive their parents. This should be law. Why should those capable of love and care have to face such harsh fact? To outlive their children and still face day by day the world when they are gone. She recounts the day her daughter’s father left. All the anger and pain he left when he was gone. She thought she couldn’t cope with that form of death, that nothing else couldn’t harm her more than that. How naïve she was. Now they were two birds flying goodbye to each other, carrying all that sadness in a flight to nowhere. She always looked at life as a series of deaths, as a way to grow, but now none of those thoughts could give her any comfort. All dreams became memories, the sky became grey and cold, dead leaves running with the wind.

She lets the sand run from her hand, like an hourglass marking the passage of time. She feels the grains slipping silently, until nothing is left but the few ones sticking in her palm. The breeze and the sound of the waves in vain offering a soothing that she refuses to take. She doesn’t want to feel better. She wants her daughter back. She looks at the moon as if the beauty of Nature could offer an instant cure for her malady, but the healing power of Nature is slow. She stays there, alone, looking at the darkness of the ocean, at the white foam of the waves when they break, the rhythmic sound of the waves oblivious of themselves and her presence. She feels so small, so abandoned to deal with the unbearable burden of those feelings, day after day.


About Mario Flecha

Libertarian feelings, thoughts, knowledge, spirit...
This entry was posted in English/Inglês, Made in Canada/Feito no Canadá, Poetry & Prose/Poesia & Prosa, Prose/Prosa, Short Story/Conto, Under The Moonlight and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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