Memory of That Day
She could remember her earliest memory like it happened yesterday.
The sky was grey and the chill on the air foretold of the winter that would soon come. She was three; her brother was there, sitting on the front porch and painting like he always did. No one else, but both of them were there. Not even the servants who usually loomed around.
She stood at the edge of the yard, bare feet, ignoring the worried murmurs of her brother. Right below of one of the oak trees, she looked up and stared at the branches of one them; it was the biggest and oldest one there, even older than she is. Most of its leaves have reddened, leaving only a handful of yellowed ones; a beautiful sight to behold, no doubt, but it’s something else that caught her attention. There, at one of the highest branches nestled a small grassy cup of bird nest. Empty and neglected. She didn’t know what it was, but she felt a pang of sadness looking at it.
“Zhi, put on your shoes before going outside, otherwise, you’ll catch a cold,” Her brother had left his painting and ran to get her. Without so much as difficulties, he lifts and engulfed her small stature in warm hug. She could smell paint and charcoal of off him; it was a nice smell, a warm smell that calmed her heart.
Even as she tightened her grip on his neck, she didn't avert her gaze from the little nest; she kept on staring, unblinking, lips zipped close. Curious, he followed her line of sight, upon seeing it an immediate understanding dawn on him.
"Ah yes… Autumn is time for parting, Zhi. But you shouldn’t worry about that.” He kissed her forehead and walked back to the house with her in tow.
A twenty year old Zhiva opened her eyes, she's not the type to reminiscence, but she could never forget that moment, even if it opened so much more painful memories. Was it premonition? Perhaps only gods know.
The sky was grey and the chill on the air foretold of the winter that would soon come. She was three; her brother was there, sitting on the front porch and painting like he always did. No one else, but both of them were there. Not even the servants who usually loomed around.
She stood at the edge of the yard, bare feet, ignoring the worried murmurs of her brother. Right below of one of the oak trees, she looked up and stared at the branches of one them; it was the biggest and oldest one there, even older than she is. Most of its leaves have reddened, leaving only a handful of yellowed ones; a beautiful sight to behold, no doubt, but it’s something else that caught her attention. There, at one of the highest branches nestled a small grassy cup of bird nest. Empty and neglected. She didn’t know what it was, but she felt a pang of sadness looking at it.
“Zhi, put on your shoes before going outside, otherwise, you’ll catch a cold,” Her brother had left his painting and ran to get her. Without so much as difficulties, he lifts and engulfed her small stature in warm hug. She could smell paint and charcoal of off him; it was a nice smell, a warm smell that calmed her heart.
Even as she tightened her grip on his neck, she didn't avert her gaze from the little nest; she kept on staring, unblinking, lips zipped close. Curious, he followed her line of sight, upon seeing it an immediate understanding dawn on him.
"Ah yes… Autumn is time for parting, Zhi. But you shouldn’t worry about that.” He kissed her forehead and walked back to the house with her in tow.
A twenty year old Zhiva opened her eyes, she's not the type to reminiscence, but she could never forget that moment, even if it opened so much more painful memories. Was it premonition? Perhaps only gods know.