Learning To Move On


graveyardsnow

The frosty air is icy cold against my skin; it must be time for winter once again. I walk down a familiar street. I have my scarf wrapped around my neck and earmuffs protecting my ears from the howling wind. I try and look ahead but the pressure of the wind is gushing against my face. The air smells fresh, I can smell damp. It must have rained earlier that day, I thought. I can still taste the hot chocolate I had moments before and I still feel its warmth. The wind intertwines with the branches of the nearby trees.

I’ve been walking for a while now and the air appears to be getting colder. I look up at the pale white sky, no patches of blue in sight. A few minutes later I feel a snowflake land on my cheek, the snow begins to fall softly at first. I don’t have far to go now before I reach the place I have been longing to visit. I couldn’t face this day a year ago, still battled with grief I refused to go there.

Minutes later the snow emerged from the sky. The white flakes fall like shooting stars. I was almost there. I walked past an old Victorian styled house; I could smell a burning coal fire. I didn’t like this smell. It reminded me of a burning bonfire on a crisp November’s night not so long ago. The smoke rose out of the chimney and it filled my lungs with the dirty soot, I coughed violently. I only had a few more yards to go and I could feel the pit of my stomach twisting into knots of anticipation. I stood at the iron gates. I had come all of this way, I had to do it now. I tumbled across the uneven ground and there it was.

My mother’s grave stone. I could taste sick in my mouth, it hadn’t occurred to me it would be this hard. My throat was dry. I looked at the ancient stone walls surrounding the church. They reminded me of another place. I knelt down, holding back the tears. The pain of guilt overwhelmed me. My heart sank like a bottomless pit as I began to relive the memories of my mother and me. I miss her. I want to be with her right now. I am finally here to say goodbye, finally facing the demons of the past year. I choked back the tears. “Hello mum” I croaked.

By anotherbeautifulrhyme

Emma-Jane, 28, writer, poet, project leader of the First Line Poets Project. My bestselling poetry collection Darkness & Light is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Pothi.

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