The Soldier’s Mothe

 

My son, I become desperate when the last bus comes without you. I look for you when people return from the city. I lose my senses when I see your friends. My heart fell from my chest. I hear them and ask them whether they tell me something about you. I become disappointed when I hear nothing from them. But it is soothing enough for my burning heart that at least I saw your friends and can leave happily for the next day. 

My son, I remember your black hair, I used to comb it. I remember you left us unwillingly. I still remember that you wanted to become an artist but you chose this for us. My son, I have nothing to help you but some tears that I shed each night under the tree in our backyard. Do you know I put your jacket under my pillow? When your sister asked to wash it, I did not give that to her. I smell it, I smell your fragrance in that.

My son, I am old. A son like you should be with his mother. I am looking for you and understand you cannot come to me. It is my wish to see you before going into the valley of death. I want to see you once more. My heart wishes to feel you. My soul crave for your company. My son, I want you back to me. I am still looking for you. My little son, my innocent son..