Miss Rose

By Sarah Khan

"Tears idle tears  of thou love,

that left me despair. 

Pink skies never died,

Whoever said they must have lied.

Behold, we know not anything,

I can but trust winters do change to spring.

Tears idle tears of thou love,

That left me despair."

The old beige papers from my grandfather’s treasure carries the striking waves my heart cries. Always and forever will. A heavy rainfall glistened the streets of Beaufort last night. The historic downtown brimming with beauty at every turn with its moss draped oak trees and breathtaking homes lining alongside. South Carolina as usual illuminated like a chandelier in naked silence of the city. Placing the two chocolate bars in my russet handbag i stomped out my apartment. Gloomy aura but the burgeoning sky after the downfall stretched proudly. Fresh petrichor intoxicated my nostrils. I drove leisurely to the place. Inhaling deep sharp breathes, i adjusted the mulberry silk scarf. She used to adore this color on me. I found my waterline heavy  as a memory unfolds before me.Its always have been this. A habit shall i say. Off the car i made my way to her grave. Haughtily stands her name craved on an olive green delicate marble plate. 

“Mother! My heart aches. I smile. Just like you. I am your reflection. A mirror. How am i supposed to hate myself?" With that i was drunk and high on the only morphine to my soul. Tears. The cherry blossom tree weeping with me. Ohh! Her lovely fantasy.  She asked father to bury her beneath a cherry blossom tree. My father never once in his life showed her the love she deserved but when she died I found him haggard and lost. Almost morbid.  Her death caused him such pain I would have never envisage. Partly it filled me with rage for how was he allowed to grieve when he made my mother a weeping soul. Yet partly I was fathomed with joy for I could see how in love he was. Men are disappointing, how was it so hard to express your love father? 

"Madame!" I smiled at the familiar low hush sound. I handed the chocolate bars to the boy with famous pink button nose and amber luscious curls who was now smiling widely with a toothy smile. 

Alpha was shepherd's son who lives with his family of three in the haunting cottage. Quite a mystery. Alpha and I share this ritual of visiting my mother every Saturday. For him she was the ever listening audience to his never ending cottage tales. "Father rescued the goat and treated her. She is in pain, miss. But tears are invisible." His nonchalance change to sudden sadness and then from horrific to excited. Amusing. 

"The other day the jingling of Jingle bells was prominent enough but mother is still in denial. As always. I think i must befriend ghost. I would give my one chocolate bar to it or Madame shall provide me one more" This made me laugh. He was unfazed.  "Then no one shall talk ill of father and mother won’t lie to me. And no village people shall steal our sheep’s. They are dearest to me. You know that miss, don’t you?" It’s Sad. Human beings are extremely disappointing. 

My mother must have been enjoying the rambling of haunting village diaries. Random fantasy and alpha goes hand in hand. I smile and laugh at his antics. I found myself in his little soul. I miss me. Now all i do is yawp barbarically but mustn't anyone hear. A well brought up daughter dangling from a huge precipice. Sad, tired and alone. I often wonder what role i contribute in the huge play. I must be contributing the biggest. I took away a lot more misery despite i was provided with only a single heart to ache. 

By Sarah Khan