Fifteen Cards

“Darling you’ll be late for school,” my mum sang from the stairs.

The house lingered with the smell of burnt toast – something I would forever miss and cherish.

I scribbled down the last answers of my homework, trusting the ones that felt right to me

“Burnt the toast again?” I chuckled as my mum glided over to adjust my cravat.

“It’s stubborn. Maybe we should return it, I can do just fine on the stove,” she gently tossed the plate towards me.

“You burn it both ways,” I muttered, stuffing a piece of toast in my mouth as I wrestled with my shoes. Pain surged through my fingers when the sole of my foot refused to fit, but I ignored it. I made my way to the door, crunching on the last of the burnt toast, when her hands gently clasped around my head. My mum pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.

“Mama! I have makeup on!” I protested, peering into the mirror behind her for smudges.

“That’s not how you speak to the brightest star of your world,” she said, feigning sternness.

“Mama, please don’t ruin my makeup,” I said slowly, word by word.

“Nope,” she said, tugging my head again and planting a kiss on the other cheek.

She opened the door and motioned me outside

I stepped out on the porch and walked towards the gate, turning around to close it.

“Darling, the day hasn’t even started, and you’re already frowning?” my mum tilted her head playfully as ever.

“Give me a smile” she says in a chirpy tone, filled with sheer affection.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile crept on my face, mirroring her grin.

“There we go, was that so hard?” a small, victorious smile dances on her lips.

She was like the sun.

Whether in crowded hospitals or the silence of places no one wished to remain— she still found you, even if you tried to run away, and after you met her she was the only light you needed.

“I’ll let you go now” she said, stepping back.

I closed the gate slowly, catching last glimpses of her, hands clasped around the doorway, and her face that said a thousand unsaid words and worries, though still her rays reached me, making me glow like a flower covered in raindrops.

She was the heartbeat of the house, making it alive, like a living paradise.

The ringing fills my ears, as students clamor outside classrooms, ready for the muddy and sloppy hike back home. Raindrops scatter the windows, like tiny seeds waiting to be grown, yet not on the right surface to grow.

I slowly pack my books, waiting for the crowd outside to dwell.

“Omg, did you hear the latest gossip between Katy and Jake?” Vanshika asks me, not waiting for my reply as she clamors on about their relationship issues.

“Honestly, it's their problem” I scoff once she's finished.

Today felt heavy, like a weight on my chest. I wanted to disappear into silence, away from noise.

Though knowing, my mother sitting on the dining chair, steadying me without a word, lightened my mood. She was like the cherry on top, the gems in rings, the sprinkles on cupcakes, the cold air on a hot day, things which are not a necessity but are at the same time.

As I reached the gate with Vanshika, she hugged me swiftly but sincerely.

“See you tomorrow?” she asks with a contagious smile.

“Unfortunately, yes” I sign dramatically.

She rolls her eyes playfully, and walks off.

“We have P.E tomorrow,” she says without turning around.

I let my head touch the cold, punishing railing behind me as I waited for my dad.

The wind was gentle and soft like my mum’s voice, the sun shone, like her smile, the trees swayed, the roots anchoring them, like my mum. Leaves fall, carried by the wind to places they’ve never been before, like her guiding me, showing me where I could reach.

I hear a honk, and start walking towards my dad’s car.

“Took long enough” I mumbled.

“What did the princess say?” My dad jokes with me, like he always does.

“Mum has a long shift today, though somehow she still managed to make your favorite food.”

I frown, something didn’t sit right. A hollow feeling curls in my stomach.

We sat in silence for the rest of the journey. The quieting hum of the engine, the aroma of her cooking in dad’s clothes, the sound of the grocery bags rustling behind.

A normal day, until the last traffic light.

“Your mum is gonna leave in like two weeks” he stammers.

The words hit me like a slap.

My chest tightens.

“Two weeks?” I croak, my voice small, fragile

“Yes, but it's all for good measure. Visa problems.”

I nod slowly and turn my face away from him, the world outside blurs, streaked by speeding cars.

Tears prick at the edges of my eyes, heavy and deserving, but I forbid them to come through.

I swallow the news down my throat, it spreads like blood, something I can’t stop, no matter how much I want them to.

The next few days, I kept myself occupied with homework, friends and parties.

I mostly forgot about my mum leaving, though at night, when silence crawled, it haunted me when I drowned with my thoughts.

My dad had always gone from time to time, and that never bothered me.

But it was never her.

She was the quiet hand that kept me steady, her laugh that brought me comfort.

And the thoughts of not seeing her brush her hair before going to bed, or her laughs in the kitchen or the way her burnt toast dissolved in my mouth was something no daughter wanted to experience.

All I could think of was who was my light now.

What I didn’t dare think about is the day she was going to depart.

She was leaving today. Leaving me here, in a place that got colder everyday.

Any place without her would never feel like home.

And here she is leaving. Carrying the pieces that made us a family. Her words of encouragement everyday. Her notes tucked away in my lunchbox, just like tiny treasures. Every friend peeked and whispered commenting on my luck, though I knew they were pieces of a puzzle, one only I could solve, but her, always lending a quiet hand till I achieved my desire.

Anger surges through me.

The car comes to a stop harshly, and any fury melts away into the box, as realisation dawns on me.

I step out beside my mum. Her eyes are heavy, lined with exhaustion that sleep cannot fix, yet even in her fatigue, there’s a soft look in her gaze that has always found me, always for me. She looks at me for a heartbeat longer than usual and envelopes me in her arms.

I slowly lay my cheek against her chest, the rhythm of her heartbeat that I have laid so many times upon. Her natural smell of a flower that I never knew of. Her home cozy type of warmth.

“May God protect you,” she murmurs, her prayer soft but immense, as if she could carry me safely even from afar.

I cling to her without thinking, unwilling to let go, afraid that releasing her will make this too real. But the moment comes, as all moments do, and I pull away.

The tears come without permission, one after the other, refusing to stop.

Everyone’s judgmental eyes are on me, but that’s the least of my worries.

They will never know the depth of the care I’ve carried all my life, the quiet miracles and sacrifices she’s done for me, the way she has always been my anchor, my sun, my guide.

She was like an angel, and I’ve always believed that paradise is under a mother’s feet.

And as I walk, I carry her prayers with me, the invisible threads of her protection that no one else will ever see or understand, but that will always keep me safe.

Each step away from her gaze is like opening a healed wound.

Once I reach the ground, I let the tears come, allowing the overflowing box to be refilled again. The screaming headache takes over me, and the ache in my legs as my blood has stopped pumping

“You’ll be fine” a gentle voice reaches me, though I don’t turn around to face her.

She reaches for my shoulder and turns me around, hugging me and I don’t let go, instead I let the sun touch my face and let the tears stream until they stop.

“She’ll be fine as well” she coos and I let her comfort me, though we both know the words hold lies that are still yet to come.

I don’t even remember the drive back home. It was mixed with silence and awkward questions to fail at starting a conversation.

But the moment I stepped into the house – that was something which would be etched into my head forever.

My mum always called me “The Sparrow of the House” and I believed it.

Yet when the stillness settled around me, I knew she was the sparrow.

There was no scent of any side-dishes she always made to make me happy.

There was no laughing, no muffled sound of someone on the phone.

There was no shuffling of feet running to meet me, no arms wrapping around me.

I wasn’t met with a storm of questions.

School always ended in comfort, knowing I had time with her, now it ended in nothing.

Even though all the furniture was still there, the house felt hollow – like it was waiting to be filled with joy that no longer belonged to us. Her shoes were gone from their place by the door. She barely went outside. She loved the comfort of home – never knowing she was the heart that made it one. A shiver crept through me. And somewhere inside, a void opened in my chest, one that would only grow.

A dull, endless gray stretched across the sky, and the snow drifted down in fragile pieces, cold and distant. Nothing sparkled. Nothing shone. It was as if the world had forgotten warmth, matching the dark hole inside me, swallowing every feeling that tried to rise.

I got used to the absence that filled the house.

No arms to still the whirlwind inside me. No kisses to melt the frost growing in my heart. No presence to sit like a quiet flame at my bedside, when I was drowning in the silent sea. Her voice always lingered in the house, though never audible, never reachable.

Our family was like a lighthouse.

My dad was the structure, steady, unbreaking and supportive

I was the ground that held it steady.

But my mum was the light that circled, the reason the lighthouse mattered at all, the glow that made us see the beauty in the dark.

I got ready silently, just like the house, no talking to myself in mirrors or singing lyrics which were definitely wrong.

Looking at myself one final time before making my way to the car, I saw what my mum always said.

Always in a frown my dear, trying to scare the teachers?

Her voice echoed in my head, making me smile and making tears form. I smiled.

“I’m leaving now Mama,” I said softly, the way I always did, even though she wasn't there to hear it.

The earth was skinned with dissolving ice, unstable and unfamiliar beneath my feet, mirroring the quiet screams in my chest. Every jagged bump and hidden sheen carried the echo of an ache I could not name. Winter had drifted into my mind as well, dimming thought into shadow and turning motion into hesitation. So when I slipped, it was not sudden—it was the moment the outside world finally matched the fracture within me.

And that was when everything dropped. Everything exploded

I managed to get hold of my wobbly legs, but not my slipping mind. I wanted to go around killing everyone, to dig a knife into their throat, to scream and make them realize what I was suffering was unimaginable, not something for their morning entertainment. To keep screaming till I lost my voice, till the whole world knew. To keep screaming till she showed up and hugged me, reassured me and called me her baby, her dream, her heart, but she didn’t.

She didn’t.

Students' laughs resonated in my head, rolling my vile thoughts over making them heavier.

The world spun several times, dropping me again and again.

I had nothing left in me

So I went home.

I was alone at home, still I locked the door to my room and fell to the ground on my knees.

I mourned all morning, and kept on crying, even when my eyes screamed like they would come out, even when my head was going to burst, even when my face was tired of the same position, even when I couldn’t feel my whines rising anymore.

I let my forehead press to the cold floor, feeling its hardness against my skin, then rolled back, hair fanning out around me, face turned toward the ceiling. Even that small comfort felt out of reach.

I needed some time with her, so I called.

Explaining everything, wanting her soothing voice to fill my head, her words like they were picked from a novel.

But nothing could have prepared me for what she said next.

“Darling, that’s not a reason to miss school” her words were flat, firm, soft but like a pillow without any fluff, like a wall then the bridge I was hoping for.

Her words plummeted my heart, and my mind took control, my body shut down.

“All you want is to get rid of me” I spit more harshly than I intended, and pressed the red button furiously.

Instead of sorrow, my chest burned with anger and frustration, more than I expected. She called again, and I declined, again and again. Her voice like the perfect lyrics, though with the wrong song.

The wound was spilling over with hurt, anger, everything. And though no one saw it, I felt it with every trembling heartbeat.

I woke up, too scared to pull the quilts away, too hesitant to tuck my hair at the back of my ear, too frozen to wipe the wet saliva of my mouth.

The hum that always filled the house was gone. No quiet clatter of pans, no careful attempts to be silent while making my favorite dishes, no gentle rhythms of her presence.

Most of all, there was no squeaking or whispering as she entered my room for the ongoing tradition that we both shared.

It stopped on the fourteenth and I didn’t want to accept that it was the last ever.

The silence pressed in on me just like when she left, sharp and familiar, and for the first time, I realized just how much of her life had been woven into mine.

I knew I couldn’t stay hidden forever, worried that this day might scar me.

I picked my phone without looking from my bed.

12 missed calls from Mama. At midnight.

She remembered.

Of course she remembered.

A strange relief flooded me — a lifeline in the madness, proof that she hadn’t forgotten me. Even though it was obvious she hadn’t.

Encouraged, I got up to grab a tissue, still without seeing, and knocked something to the floor.

She had always left me little notes to find — folded secrets hidden in ordinary days.

I never imagined one day they would be all I had left to open.

One for every year she carried me.

Cards, tied with delicate ribbons, fell around me. Each one precise, intentional — just like Mama. Nothing confirmed it was from her, though I knew it was.

Each card held fragments of memories I hadn’t remembered, prayers she had whispered that I had never heard, little pieces of her I’d always carried unknowingly. Her words breathed her presence into the room, and I couldn’t help but smile.

The last card I picked up was small — one line, but it hit like a hammer:

“You will always live inside my heart, knowing that you always have been my little girl, my darling, my everything – watching you conquer the world… just from a different view”

The sentence did not break me at first.

It hovered in the air, gentle and impossible, a truth my mind refused to know.

As if trying not to understand it might take it away.

I told myself it was temporary, reversible.

A misunderstanding, time would heal.

I called her. No answer

I called again. No answer

That’s when something opened in my chest, something I couldn’t control, like a heavily locked door finally opening, dancing in the wind.

I let the tears come, carrying the sorrow. Guilt came close behind, quiet and unforgiving, but I allowed it.

I deserved it.

The last time she called me, my name, my darling

I had answered with nothing, and there was no way to change that.

I clutched her last words tightly against my chest, as if I could take my words back, take time back, fix it, fix me.

Her last words were uttered, and her words were hers to give, and even in my anger, they were still meant for me.

Overwhelm coursed through my body, even in my lowest, even when I was blind she was there.

And she still will be. Though I knew my guilt and my sorrow will be etched with me forever

And for the first time in my life,

The light of our lighthouse, our sun was gone–

And I was still standing

learning how to see in the dark.

Learning to see without her.