Short Story Family Love – Our Very Own Moon
Photo credit: bobby from morguefile.com
I remember October 27th 2005 distinctly. I remember it like it was yesterday because that was the day that changed my life.
I was fifteen years old at that time. But this story is not about my life then. This is about that moment which changed it.
I remember coming back home from school to a different aura than usual. My mother was talking rather anxiously on the phone while her legs wouldn’t stay put and my grandmother, a rather uncommon visitor to our home, was also there doing just the contrary – she was seated in a chair at the dining table trying very hard to calm her old nerves. I knew immediately. My sister was going into labor.
And of course I was still ‘too young’ to know any more details or to be of any help. As irritated as that had me, I watched my mother and grandmother finally get all the things necessary into a travel bag and rush my sister to the hospital. It was around three o’ clock afternoon.
I sauntered upstairs and made a very futile effort to complete my homework. But my mind kept drifting to my sister. She was going to be a mother. I knew she would be an amazing mother, not only because she obviously learned from the best but I knew that because I knew my sister. There was not a more patient, understanding, committed and loving person I could think of. She was meant to play the role of a mother and might I say she is doing the role justice beautifully even today.
Later that evening I walked into the room converted into a nursery. I hadn’t received any calls from my mother and had no update as to what was going down at the hospital. I walked up to the chest of drawers my sister and my brother-in-law had bought for their expected little one. Over the course of nine months they had filled it with anything and everything they felt their baby would be in need of. I pulled open the first drawer. It was filled with a couple of feeding bottles, cups, nipples et all. The next drawer was packed with blankets and diapers. It made me smile, how they were already prepared with all the essentials. I knew they were going to be great parents and they didn’t even need parenting classes. They were a couple of naturals.
I pulled another one of the drawers open. It was filled with incredibly tiny white shirts that I couldn’t imagine anything being small enough to fit them. But they were there and they were gonna fit. I said a silent prayer for my sister and the new life she is bearing. I looked into the next drawer and it had an array of coloured clothes – shirts and onsies. They varied from darkest of blues to the lightest of pinks, to look superb on either a boy or a girl.
I loved the idea of not knowing the sex of the baby. It was a beautiful gesture to embrace whatever God bestowed upon them without any expectations or any doubts. I walked over to the crib with a net draped over it. Ahh this crib. This crib had history. It had been used by both my sisters and I, and now this sturdy old thing is going to give the little one only dreams filled sleeps. I looked at the chime hanging over the crib. I closed my eyes and I was able to imagine a baby lying on that soft matress beneath it and reaching out for it as hummed a beatiful lullaby. The thought brought a smile to my face.
At 9:19 the phone rang and it made me jump! I had been so preoccupied about all the new baby thoughts.
“Hello.”
“Hello, sis. Your sister and I have been blessed with a baby boy. He was born at 9:14.” my brother-in-law’s tearfilled voice was enough to declare his happiness. I cried too. Unidentified emotions flooded me. For a few minutes I couldn’t help but let the tears fall.
I was an aunt.
I sat down and in all my happiness I thought about the names we had decided on. Yes. The moon. Rakesh – that was the name we had chosen if it was going to be a baby boy. I knew deep in my heart, his name fit him perfectly. He was going to be the light in the dark, in all our darkness. From here forth there was only the light he was going to shine to look forward to. I was ready to be an aunt for him and however many more to come.
Nearly nine years now, nothing about how I feel towards him has changed. These feelings I harbour for him cannot still be described. It is love. It is a strong and strange love. Love I never thought I had within me to express. Even now I surprise myself at how much I love him . I know, for a fact, that everyone at home feel this love.
Metaphorically, if my family is to be a planet, this little boy is always going to be our very own moon.
__END__
