I recalled that same day... replaying in my head, it being a roller coaster with a line of never ending customers. When the ride finished, only a couple seconds apart, it would be put into motion again—from the beginning.
"It's like you're in a whole different world," she, my mother had said to me once. "...Really?" I questioned her, what I had in mind was that she was implying that there was something wrong with being curious and open minded.
"Yeah, really. You look at everything in awe. You know that? It's like I can see sparkles in your eyes, when something fascinates you a lot."
"Can I ask a question?"
"Go ahead, Love," she acknowledges as she slides down next to me, even more, on the bench, patting my head of hair that swayed in the soft breeze.
"Mother, why couldn't father give me a more...girly name?"
She halts her actions abruptly, obviously taken aback by my question. I was there staring into my mother’s face with a wide smile, expecting her answer. After all, my innocent mentality had convinced myself that my mother knew everything. I cup my fist, with my opposite hand, and sat them both on my lap.
"Ask him," she rubs her temple gingerly, with questionable annoyance and bitterly smiles.
She kneels down in front of me, "Krane, don't worry about that, really, please don't. You're a young girl, soon to be a woman," she pleads, in a whispering tone and my heart sank hearing that voice. She pulled me, making me fall into her arms, then she hugged me. Her breathing was heard deeply through her nostrils.
"Mother? What if I don't make it...to be a woman?" I inquired before her eyes dilated and she gasped.
"What?" my mother’s stern response had her jet-black orbs searching for an explanation as to why I was thinking such frivolous thoughts.
"Father told me--"
"And YOU'D listen!" She snapped. "You're just a little girl. I'm sorry. But he has no right to brainwash you into thinking so negatively of yourself like that. I'm so sorry, Love. You should go to bed early tonight. I have a word to share with your father," moving from my terrace, to inside my room, in a couple of steps, she leads me to my bed.
"Mother?"
"See you, Love," she blows me a kiss and softly closes the room door. I was puzzled for why she didn't tuck me into bed that night. And I stayed staring into the ceiling, imagining what that reason was. Why couldn't my mother stay a bit longer?
Obviously I knew what happened. With my present mentality, after all, I've been watching this memory, like a record of my younger self, in my dreams—more like nightmares. I've seen this story unravel so many times before.
"G-Good night..." I finally said, even though I knew she couldn't have heard me.
"It's like you're in a whole different world," she, my mother had said to me once. "...Really?" I questioned her, what I had in mind was that she was implying that there was something wrong with being curious and open minded.
"Yeah, really. You look at everything in awe. You know that? It's like I can see sparkles in your eyes, when something fascinates you a lot."
"Can I ask a question?"
"Go ahead, Love," she acknowledges as she slides down next to me, even more, on the bench, patting my head of hair that swayed in the soft breeze.
"Mother, why couldn't father give me a more...girly name?"
She halts her actions abruptly, obviously taken aback by my question. I was there staring into my mother’s face with a wide smile, expecting her answer. After all, my innocent mentality had convinced myself that my mother knew everything. I cup my fist, with my opposite hand, and sat them both on my lap.
"Ask him," she rubs her temple gingerly, with questionable annoyance and bitterly smiles.
She kneels down in front of me, "Krane, don't worry about that, really, please don't. You're a young girl, soon to be a woman," she pleads, in a whispering tone and my heart sank hearing that voice. She pulled me, making me fall into her arms, then she hugged me. Her breathing was heard deeply through her nostrils.
"Mother? What if I don't make it...to be a woman?" I inquired before her eyes dilated and she gasped.
"What?" my mother’s stern response had her jet-black orbs searching for an explanation as to why I was thinking such frivolous thoughts.
"Father told me--"
"And YOU'D listen!" She snapped. "You're just a little girl. I'm sorry. But he has no right to brainwash you into thinking so negatively of yourself like that. I'm so sorry, Love. You should go to bed early tonight. I have a word to share with your father," moving from my terrace, to inside my room, in a couple of steps, she leads me to my bed.
"Mother?"
"See you, Love," she blows me a kiss and softly closes the room door. I was puzzled for why she didn't tuck me into bed that night. And I stayed staring into the ceiling, imagining what that reason was. Why couldn't my mother stay a bit longer?
Obviously I knew what happened. With my present mentality, after all, I've been watching this memory, like a record of my younger self, in my dreams—more like nightmares. I've seen this story unravel so many times before.
"G-Good night..." I finally said, even though I knew she couldn't have heard me.
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