THE MOTHER
260 Words
Zahra could not speak.
The woman stood still.
Water was on the ground.
`Amina is my name,` she said.
Amara held Zahra’s arm tight.
`You are the mother?` she asked.
The woman nodded.
Tears fell down her face.
`I had a girl.`
`At the old clinic.`
`Many years ago.`
Zahra’s chest hurt.
`I was that girl.`
The woman looked at her.
Long. Hard.
`You have my eyes.`
`The same line on your brow.`
Boma stepped back.
He gave them space.
The girl with the cloth came close.
`Mother?` she whispered.
Amina touched Zahra’s face.
Her hand shook.
`I looked for you.`
`Every day. For years.`
Zahra broke.
She cried.
Amina held her close.
The market noise faded.
Only two mothers were there.
One who lost.
One who was found.Amina wiped her face.
`Come,` she said soft.
`Not here. Too many eyes.`
She took Zahra’s hand.
It was warm. Rough.
Like a mother’s hand should be.
They left the red stall.
The girl followed quiet.
`This is your sister,` Amina said.
`Her name is Zainab.`
Zahra looked at the girl.
Young. Scared. Hopeful.
`Zainab,` Zahra said.
The girl nodded.
They walked through the market.
Past cloth. Past food.
No one saw their tears.
Amina stopped by a small house.
Blue door. Old wood.
`This is home.`
She opened it slow.
Inside was simple.
A mat. A pot. A picture.
The picture was old.
A baby girl.
Zahra stared at it.
`That is you.`
Amina’s voice broke.
Zahra touched the paper edge.
Her heart felt full.
And broken.
At the same time.
- Writer
