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She could hardly keep herself from smiling. Teary-eyed, she took hold of the tiny little angel that was brought into the room by the hospital nurse. He had his father’s eyes. Despite her being bed-ridden and weak from exhaustion, she managed a loving smile as her first-born son yawned his first yawn.


He came home one day with only one shoe. Bullies at school hid his shoe, and he was forced to take a humiliating walk home, half-barefoot. She felt his pain. She took the remaining shoe off his foot, and the touch of her hand consoled him, gave him comfort. He felt like he would never need to wear shoes again as long as she was by his side.


It was the unmistakable stench of alcohol. He said he came from school. She found a cigarette lighter in the pocket of his pants while she was washing them. What was happening to him? Silently she wept.


He had trouble breathing. He called for his wife just as his son got home. He came home after curfew, and despite the pain he was feeling in his chest he scolded the young man. Words were said, and he clutched his chest. He said he just needed the outdoor air. He said he wanted to go to his sister’s house to watch television.

He died in the hospital that day.


She watched helplessly, crying, as her son hides his face in shame from behind bars. He was caught buying crack from the neighborhood junkie. Lost for words, he handed over the note which he wrote for her in jail, scribbled on the back of a torn cigarette foil. She read every loving word as tears rolled down her cheek. She steadied herself. Watching him rot was killing her.


He was excited to show her his biggest paycheck ever. When she found out, she was so proud of him. She realized that he was no longer a child. He had gone through so much, and so had she.

The story continues. Mom, you inspire me.


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Creative Commons License
Stories from the Simian Crease by Binchee is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Philippines License.
Based on a work at binchee.blogspot.com