By Erika laskar
It started with the phone call that I thought I would never receive. The monotonous ringing inflicted a headache, it crippled my brain cells.
I rushed out of the vapoury bathtub, with an untimely gimmick in my mind.
The other side said a “Hello”, it felt like the lilac lavender fields I dreamt laying on every afternoon while counting the foggy thoughts.
Grandma! you still have the voice of a woman who can bury me in the name of your Creme brulee which is fresh out of your kitchen.
So I leave the skeletons in my closet and start hearing you out, your words of daily chores, general queries start to make me nostalgic.
You ask “how are you”, I keep wondering how to stitch the sentences. So that I can gift you a perfect handkerchief with the Letter written “S”
“S” for Saviour, soreness, solitude, soul or survival.
I can’t spell them anymore, they seem like the warplanes hovering over our fields, very distant but still fills our heart with consternation.
you know I was trying to snort the dirt on my body and get high on my messy heart. I was afraid that the lilacs would never return.
Your child like excitement in every bit of words, made my heart act like a heart for once.
What If I never received the call, what if your wisdom of 70’s never brought the emerald saplings wishing to grow again instead of deciding to give up.
it was just another proposition, you messed it up on that 12.30 p.m. afternoon.
The bathtub would have bled to the words written on my body, where butterflies never made their way, the neck seemed tired of the lesions of the 16 years old.
despoilment felt like nipping of the bud, choking of the throat, when every day the touches started scratching every part of my body with the nails engraved as someone familiar.
the delinquency became so unbearable that it forms the “Veronika decides to die” within.
Granny, you amaze me with the life within you, the bewilderment of knowing the world and living every seconds of it.
It is so enthralling through your voice. The childhood bubbles are again reaching the sky with the rainbow hues on it.
I feel the birds clipped inside my palms, ready to leave the nest after a storm. I feel the paradise lost, I feel the sunflowers returning at the starting of the summer, bright and heads held high toward the sun.
The proposition remains in the Pandora’s box, for a forever.
I fall in love with life once again, your voice creating a melody inside my eardrums, pumping my heart with fresh blood and filling air in my lungs to breathe the newness and astonishment in every corner of this planet.
Still, I wonder sometimes.
What If I never received the call, what if your wisdom of 70’s never brought the emerald saplings wishing to grow again instead of deciding to give up
What if the monotonous ringing didn’t inflict a headache and crippled the brain cells.
Answers and questions have coalesced together since then.