Wednesday Stories: Suture
“My mother she’s a tailor, and my father he’s a doctor.” The little girl told the old woman, who nodded gravely. The old woman knew things the little girl didn’t. Yes she did.
“You will grow up,” said she to the little one whose soft brown hair smelt like baby powder. She said it with such a sadness that the little girl’s heart welled up with a huge desire to do nothing but cry and as she cried she hugged the little old lady with all her heart, pouring out all the compassion she felt allowing it to wrap the old lady around twice over, and more. But a fragrance it left. A good fragrance.
“You will fall in love,” said she to the little one with the pink face who looked back at her with earnest eyes and a puzzled expression. The little one had no idea. But then, the old woman knew things the little girl didn’t. Yes she did.
“And then they will break you,” she said to the little one holding her as close as she could so she could protect her innocence for as long as her frail hands could.
“You will cry, hard, your heart will break, but it will come whole again, and then you will once again love again,” said she to the little one with the pink little cheeks.
“Hugs grandma,” she would cry out.
And the old woman cried, hard before she died. And she said, dear little one, whatever you do remember your mother’s a tailor and your father’s a doctor. So whenever your heart is broken, run to them, and they will suture your heart up in no time – so you can always be whole, again.
And the little girl held the old woman close, covering her with her arms, and once again all that was in her heart poured out for the old one.
So she grew up. Pretty, and clever. Clever pretty girl, just like her grandma. The sort of girls who were loved the least by our men, for they did not know how to.
Then she looked up at the brightest star in the sky and hoped with all her heart that she would fall in love, and that she would fall in love good.
And she fell in love.
As the shooting star pierced through the dark sky she knew that she would do it good. And she also knew that her heart will break and she would cry.
Many a times.
And many a times her father gently held her heart as her mother sat down to suture it up again.
And the old woman smiled down at her for that really is life, is it not?