The dust settles the mud cakes on the wheels after the rain the memories of sunshine succumbs to the pain of a long lost childhood in the long road of remembering.
The journey that starts in the darkness before dawn travelling on the familiar road now dissolving into the horizon of the angry sea on the left and the denuded mountains on the right eager to see the memories that will be unearthed in the sunset that awaits.
I see her face, so happy and youthful despite the wrinkles she from whose wombs I sprung to life and whose bosoms I became alive she whose anger at life has come to bear joy in moments that she defies the odds it is her smile that reminded me that at the end of long travels there is always a home.
It is the season of giving, and the season of coming back to reminisce the joys of childhood now overshadowed by the follies of the old and the hardened yet I still see my mother’s face at that same chair I left her sitting in that all too familiar place in a season where travelling is a desire to bring gifts to children long gone, now attempting to be there once again.
It is Christmas. The roads I traveled were difficult as the journey itself was long but at the end of it lies a joy that is worth all the dust and mud on the wheels for there was my mother, smiling, waiting, sitting, loving in that same place where I left her.
留言