The next day, the body woke up, amazed by the soul which was sitting on the chair with wide-open eyes. The room was warm, but the soul was shivering. As Lily passed by the hall, everything was in its place except for the lady in the rocking chair. She screamed for Mama, but only her echoes responded. Some familiar faces entered the house, hugged her, and gave their condolences. She ran back to her room, where the soul was still there, but its eyes were closed now. Yesterday, she had buried the lady she called her life. Her life was gone; it slept beneath the soil peacefully and gifted the chaos. Mama had taught her everything but forgot to teach her how to live without her.
Everyone around her was mourning, but she was not. The death turned her out as reticence. Her eyes kept staring at the rocking chair for the coming days. The plants were weeping, and so were curtains.
We live as if life is forever. When death kisses, life seems lifeless. At first, death appears Kafkaesque, then stays as reverie, and later transforms into magical realism.
Weeks had gone by and then months. Lily was abandoned with Rosie’s memories. She was drowning in the sea of loneliness. Her entire life revolved around Rosie. Lily was spending most of her time sitting in the rocking chair. She could see the garden blooming, but she was held in the arms of autumn. The acceptance of Mama’s death came later. Meanwhile, she was finding comfort in the denial.
When the autumn walked into the garden, Lily began searching for spring. She indulged in the habits of Rosie. The void was still there, but Lily found life in remembering Rosie’s lessons. She was swinging between life and death by the moments they had shared. She threw away the loneliness and embraced the solitude.
Lily planted roses in her garden, expanding the universe that Rosie had left behind.
~Aamna
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