I looked back at the house I just had to say goodbye to, and it hurt more than I expected.
In every memory I had, she was always there. Her laugh in the kitchen, her voice humming old songs at night, her arms holding me close in the night.
And now... this would be the first time I'd face life without mama, or so I think.
I ran back toward the house, trying to hold onto something that was no longer there. I could only reach her in my memory. I hugged Martha but my hands were only reaching her laps and looked up facing Aunt Martha, with pleading eyes.
"Aunt… can I go back? Just this once." She looked at me for a moment, her expression soft with understanding, and gave a small nod. I turned around and started walking toward the house.
The closer I got, the harder it became to hold back the tears. Every step felt heavier, like I was walking through my memories. I could almost see her standing in the doorway, waiting for me with that warm smile.
I stepped inside, and the silence hit me. Loud. Empty. Cold. I entered her room, and everything came rushing back. Her smell, her voice, and the way she folded her clothes so neatly as I, was so messy. I tried. I really tried not to cry. But the tears came anyway, fast and unrelenting.
It's been a week since Mama died, but the pain still feels as fresh as the night it happened. Every detail still clings to me. I gathered all her things; her clothes, her simple jewelry, and even those creepy dolls she always brought home for me.
She'd hand them over like they were treasures and say, "I heard children your age love these," smiling like she truly believed it.
We never had much. In fact, we were far from rich, some would even say poor. But Mama always made a way. She was a physician. Not one who grew wealthy from her trade, but one who gave everything she had for others. She'd undercharge or treat people for free if she knew they couldn't afford it. They even called her kind to a fault.
So how could the same people she gave so much to... burn her? I finished gathering everything and carried it out to the front of the house. I kept a few things for myself, things I couldn't bear to lose.
Aunt Martha came running toward me, her voice sharp with concern."Dawn! What are you doing?" I didn't answer her. I knelt down, lit a match from the small box she had in her satchel, and tossed it onto the pile of belongings. The fire crackled and roared to life, red and orange flames licking at the sky.
People from the village stopped to stare. I saw the confusion in their eyes, the whispers behind hands, but I didn't care. I closed my eyes and said a final prayer.
Mama always told me, "We don't pray for the dead. We pray for the living." But I prayed for her anyway.
When everything had burned to ash, I doused the last of the flame, stood up, and whispered, "Goodbye." Then, we left.
The road ahead was long. The carriage bumped over rocks and roots, swaying slightly with every uneven patch. Tall trees loomed on either side, the sky above a clear blue.
The mood in the carriage was one of grieving people. My aunt glanced over at me more than once, concern written all over her face. Eventually, she spoke. "Do you want to talk about it? Dawn, please… talk to me."
I appreciated her. Truly, I did. But I couldn't talk. Not now. Not yet. I simply shook my head. We were on the road for hours. The sun dipped low, and the light began to fade. Eventually, the carriage stopped, and we set up a small canvas tent on the edge of the road.
The evening air was quiet. Still. Once everything was settled, Aunt Martha sat beside me and gave me that look. The kind that tells you you're not getting out of the conversation.
"Dawn," she said firmly, "this is enough. You need to talk to someone." I looked up at her. I knew she wouldn't back down. "Aunt… I truly have nothing to talk about."
She sighed, and took my hand gently, but with a strength I hadn't expected. "I want you to know you can always count on me. I know I can never replace your mother, and I'm not trying to… but please, just remember you can confide in me. I'm here. No matter what."
I gave her a small smile, even though I knew it wasn't real. I think she knew too, but she didn't press it. She just held my hand a little tighter.
That night, under a sky full of stars, we rested. Quiet. Still. Waiting for dawn. Tomorrow, we'd continue on to Malvin, the village that would be my new home. A new beginning….