Flash Fiction Thursday

          beauty 

You looked at the beautiful environment at the Legon Botanical Gardens –the first time you had stepped into the site. You were captivated by its beauty; it stirred memories of both what you possessed and what you had lost. They say beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, and you found it in the life you had last year; in the things that defined your existence — a life well lived. Last year was the best moment of your life, the absolute best until it went away to a world unknown.

Mama accompanied you to the botanical gardens. She shared in your sorrow, your anguish, and your happiness. She was your everything. You didn't know how you would've lived without mama's support. She stayed with you at your best, middle –and now, your lowest. 

Mama dished out the food. She had encouraged you to go out; she told you to step out and embrace your new life. You didn’t want to go unless it’s with her. She was all that you had — the only importance in your life. Mama knew beauty a little. She didn’t know the kind of beauty that society accepts –what you had in the moment of your life. 

You glanced upward to the birds soaring above; their wings dancing in the air. Their white bodies painted the sky as they descended and perched upon the tree. As Mama plates jollof rice with chicken, you grasp a spoonful and swallow it, feeling it scratch your throat as it travels down; instantly, you sense the parched dryness that had lingered there. You're reminded of the barren terrain your throat had become, struggling to produce saliva without water. Water, too, was beauty.

As you eat your jollof, you ask Mama “Why do beautiful things wither? Why can’t they stay for long.” Tears begin to form in your eyes. They begin to show signs in your expression. You have decided to stop crying; never shedding a tear again. 

Mama understood your pain. She knew that a well was forming in your cornea. She responded, “Beauty will always fade away. It is never meant to stay eternal. Take a look at me” She points at her face and shows you the wrinkles that have formed in her face. 

“I used to be the most beautiful girl in the town. Every man wanted me. Now I look old”, she continues chuckling a little to lighten the mood. 

You believed Mama's wrinkles was an evidence to the exhaustion of being a single mother to you; she had tirelessly cared for you since the moment she discovered your father was a married man. You couldn't shake the guilt of feeling envious of your mother. At least he was married to another woman — and she had you.  

Your gaze shifts to two birds feeding together, triggering memories of him — the first man in your life, the one who adorned you with gold and showered you with diamonds in countless ways. 

He polished you to perfection; he made all heads away attention to you. He bestowed upon you a beauty that left your friends struggling to find boyfriends, let alone husbands. That's what Kojo meant to you.

That day, you opted not to accompany Kojo to the family event; you were extremely worn out and besides, you weren’t needed. He donned the kaftan shirt with green stripes that you gifted him on your wedding anniversary that same year — the year you had Beauty. 

You had grown tired of every noise, wail, screams and everything that made mess. You told him not to go alone. 

He asked, “What if I cannot handle the stress?”, concern showing over his face. 

You walk over to him and kiss him lightly on his lips, “You’re a good husband and amazing father. You love me and my all. You can handle anything and anyone.”

As he drove off, you felt a sharp pain. It hurt you in the stomach; but you shook it, it wasn’t that serious till it had significance when you answered a call later. 

The call was off a return to the ashes. Kojo had left you. He had returned to his forefathers. He didn't leave for the ashes alone; he departed with Beauty. He took Beauty with him. 

If Kojo had passed away alone, you might have found something to hold on to — something to put your sadness away. 

This would have been something with reason to cling on to; something with substance. Unfortunately, he left with Beauty; he took away the very thing you had kicked, screamed and cried so hard to bring into this world. Beauty was flawless. Beauty had a predetermined destiny. 

At the funeral, your tears flowed even more; you wept for Beauty — you wept for the love you yearned to shower upon Beauty. Beauty represented the future you had planned for yourself. Beauty belonged to you; the fruit of the love between Kojo and yourself. 

That day, he went without the cot; and as you stepped into the room, you found yourself empty-handed — there was only the clothes and cot. You wept bitterly. You wept your heart out. You had nothing more — no room to show for the hardwork society praised you for — to be a mother.

this story is longer than what’s on the page; comment if you want to read the longer version. the major inspiration is my visit to Legon Botanical gardens yesterday.