Memories… are often said to be a reminder of the past.
Yes! Past. Let’s go back to my childhood when I was just eight. Even though festive vibes chimed in our home, but the heart was ruinous. My face was dim looking at my friends cheering up with joy. By cupping my cheeks and with heavily loaded feelings, holding my tears peeking at my gateway.
When I saw my elder brother arriving with a kite, my lips couldn’t resist and got widened. My little eyelids kissed each other, but alas! Water filled in them pull to pieces and rolled over my cheeks. My brother who misunderstood the situation handed me over the kite and wiped my tears. I hoped like a deer and extended my way to the staircase to showcase my beautiful handmade kite by my brother. It was a multicolored kite, with a very big tail. Even though my multiple attempts didn’t make it to let the kite kiss the heights of shyness. Giggles from the neighboring hood discouraged me and allowed me to give up.
With a lite smile on his face, he held my hand and thought me to fly the kite. My kite appeared as a tiny piece of paper as long as it went far from me. It lightened my heart when I turned back to see my brother my joy reflected in his eyes with a bright smile on his face, simply holding the kite spool. Making others jealous of me, poured some inner strength. By hugging my brother I thanked him for making me feel special.
He said: “You’re the only little sister I have to protect and pamper.”
“Siri…” my mom voiced to me.
Waking up late on this fest after 20 years, I just patted my eyes gently, rubbed my hands against each to gain some warmth, and dabbed my cheeks. Cheers from my neighborhood attracted my eyesight to peek through my window. The view of kids flying their kites splintered my heart.
“I miss you, my dear brother,” I whined.
Past is always said to be ROM.
The Momma Clan 
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