She sits, admiring her child sleep without worrying about the gunshots that was being heard outside their home. He occasionally smiles in his sleep and giggles as bombs and grenades blast away the silence of the night as though an angel had him tickled. He slept like a baby – for a baby he was.
The young chub knew not the torment his mom had been through. She had lost his dad three months to his birth after the couple had tried for ten good sidereal years. As she watches him, she thinks, perhaps he is dreaming of being an engineer, nah, may be a doctor, or perhaps the best peasant farmer like his dad was.
She wipes her tears from her eyelids occasionally as the thought of reality hits at her: her son wouldn’t survive through the night. Food alone was a problem, but the smile of her child with his eyes closed on her laps is far satisfying than any banquet.
As the darkness of the night grew thicker and the breeze got colder, she heard her child speak for the first time. What surprised her the most was what he said. She couldn’t believe it. Is she hallucinating from eating wild berries or is the once evil forest speaking to her. She heard him speak again. This time, his lips moved as he slept and uttered the word “Dad.” She cried. How can I explain to him when he grows up, she lamented.
But in the midst of the bittersweet happiness a hand wrapped her from behind, warming her cold skin and the most familiar voice in her life said “Jane, I’m back.” With tears like that of Lake Victoria, she washed off the blood stains from his chest and they sneaked through the dangerous night into a neighboring country, living not happily ever after but enduring through hard times and being happy
Brethren, sometimes hope comes from the most unlikely of sources. Don’t lose it.
My name is Kotey.