Whispers of screams

I spent the day in a corner observing as the world spanned in my little house. My eyes constantly burning yet I could not close them for some reason. Everyone seemed to be putting on a face as they told little jokes and laughed heartily. Yet the relationship between mother and children were compromised. When people decide to give up fighting, they usually do it because they see no effects, no reason to continue or do not feel appreciated enough. Mother seemed to have all the above, gingerly or not she showed it. It wasn’t fun in the least of ways, for even though all was free to do as they please, the children still yearned for a roof. A barrier that regulates actions and passages. Rebellion doesn’t feel right if there is none to rebel against.

Mother is a strong person and gently she whispered her stance to the children.  It was hard and shot, no need to waste words. Mother made it known that she had tried her best and was neither getting results nor appreciation. Her actions were almost emotionless yet prudent. Mostly such information was delivered with a face of pain or regret, yet today as she spoke in a whisper, Mother was firm. “Each is mature and free to do as you see fit, I would do my responsibility as a mother but I wouldn’t talk anymore like I used. Especially about petty things and how you should live”, she said.

So as we sat in a corner or in a large space, we watched on as the friendship between children and mother was torn down to a formality. It felt more like a business obligation and not a gift. Each day, Mother felt distant and the children only spoke in soft whispers for none would listen to their screams.