Happiness

• Ridmi Dias, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2010

She walks with her head held up high, holding the hand of a younger boy. He watches her, curiosity sparkling in his eyes and she tries not to laugh as they dance on by. She tells him stories that make him laugh, she feels care free and peaceful inside. They walk barefooted through the sand, watching the white horses rush towards them. They sit down quietly and discuss life at large, the many faults but also happiness. The sun beats down on them as they walk back slowly, heads both bent. Trying to blend in with the crowds but clearly visible, there skin as dark as the night sky. Some walk away, some pity them; she walks forward, completely ignoring them. Her hair flowing behind her on the whisk of the wind; her figure and grace just like a queen’s.

This happens day after day, she feels bad for her son but he feels no shame. He walks with pride, just like his mother, barefooted, kindly supporting her. The weeks drag on and the boy goes to school. He brings home praise, trying so hard to please her. She looks on, a smile dancing in my eyes; she can not hide her distinct pride. They walk the same route, and exchange silly stories; loving each other’s company, their happiness at no end. She talks about mermaids, and how she wishes to be with them in the dark blanket of the sea. She waves to the ocean as if she can see them and people watch them curiously.

Weeks pass unnoticed and so do the years. The young boy grows up and is not as feared. He visits her daily, and the same walk begins, yet again she looks troubled from deep within. The daily walk is cut shorter, as she finds it too hard. Her hands aren’t as soft and her figure not as proud. But despise the faults, she dances away. Her laugh is like gold and her eyes shine like the sun’s rays. Many people watch her, a gleam in their eyes, mystified by her joy. Her clothes are in rags, and her hair white and whisky. Her legs are quite buckled but she still looks beautiful.

But as life just begins, it also must end. She leaves silently without saying farewell. And for the last time, the grown boy returns home. He walks the same route, silently at first. Then he bursts into laughter as he remembers her tales. And as he walks across the beach, to their usual spot, he murmurs a story that had happened that day. He imagines her swimming gracefully through the water, sharing her stories with the children in the ocean, and he waves. And above the sound of the ocean waves, the seagull’s calls, and the children voices, he hears her laughter.