Every night when you think I am asleep or resting, my eyes remain wide open and my heart aches. I feel like punching a wall. Mama, I used to think we couldn’t feel someone else’s pain.
You wake me up every morning, your face a little different every time. Yet the only thing that remains is your wonderful and tolerant smile. You never talk about the elbow bruises, the chapped lips or the youthful scars on your body. Perhaps, you feel victorious in them. One more night, one more day without breaking entirely.
I walked into your room one afternoon. I can’t even remember what I needed. You laid on the floor as still as a corpse and your voice as broken as the vase on the floor. I said “Mama can you hear me?”
All you said – “Make sure, papa doesn’t hear you.”
One day you picked me up from school, I hugged you so tight that you suddenly cried. It was the first time I saw tears in your eyes. “I thought you were the strongest ma”, I said jokingly. You laughed and wiped your own tears, something that you are so good at doing now. That is day I realized, I’m the only think that makes you weak.
All those late nights when I would sneak into the living room to watch TV, I did not actually want to be awake. I needed something to block out the howling I could hear from your room. I prefer nightmares now, I do. However, cartoons always manage to override the noise. I tried to be strong like you.
Mama, I know you don’t like to eat anymore. Your lunches were always uneaten, food always thrown off the plate. Why did it make you lose your appetite? You needed all your strength. I remember how happy food and chocolate used to make you. You shouldn’t have given up on happiness like that. I am your happiness too.
Every night when father comes home late, I can hear him walking around the house. His drunken legs give way to his harshness. Yet you try to tame him and calm him down. I have never seen you act mad. You pick up the pieces he breaks. I think maybe because they resemble your own heart.
can I fix your heart?