Image by Couleur from Pixabay
She had decided to leave and her bag was packed. Sitting on her bed she was just getting herself together to face her decision. She took a few deep breaths.
Her mind told her that she was doing the right thing and she appreciated it. But then it contradicted immediately and said loud and clear to her, ‘the road is tough and you are not.’
More thoughts flooded her mind – it isn’t what others normally do…who will take care of grandma…and a recurrent thought of failing.
In fact, her mind guaranteed it that she would ultimately, definitely fail.
She got up and moved towards the window. She saw little kids playing outside, happily and ignorantly.
Images of destruction, people crying for help, and dead bodies lying everywhere shook her once again.
The news channels always make it easy to remember the gross truth without presenting an actual practical answer, though options of ‘SMSing’ and voting are abundant.
She returned and said something to herself. Then she turned to see the mirror and said loudly, ‘I am doing the right thing…I can’t just sit and talk…I can’t…this is right…I know it.’ She took her bag and left her room.
Her grandma knew about her plan and though she had asked her to abandon it, at that moment she warmly hugged her granddaughter and said, ‘I am proud of you…God be with you.’ She kissed her grandma and left the house in a spirit to be the change.
She reached the camp with difficulty. Bad weather and landslides made it almost impossible.
All the people on the way kept telling her that she must not go. An elderly man even scolded her and asked her if she was trying to be daring or cool or trying to prove something to her friends.
He thought it was a joke for a young girl like her. She didn’t reply to him, she knew the man was hurt and maybe had lost someone in the disaster. She kept quiet and walked ahead.
After almost three weeks of no information, her grandma received a letter.
Grandma,
I am trying hard to help, I am trying hard not to cry but I’ll need your blessings. Don’t ask for mercy, ask for strength. We are together in this Grandma.
When I return home, you’ll also have a younger granddaughter to welcome. Her name is Sheena. She is my baby sister.
Much love!
Sofia
Weekly Newsletter
Recent Posts
- Together Pan-optically
- Essentially Gold, The Lavender Hill Mob
- The Source
- In The Sundarbans
- The Knight’s Missing But The Horse’s Here
