Growing up without parents, I strive hard to do both schooling and doing a job. Not tough enough, but I should do it. I should learn how to not depend on someone.
Some memories stuck on my mind. Memories of them roaming around the park, while I’m a naïve child picking some unique leaves I saw along the road. It was my hobby, collecting them in my album and ask my parents what are their names.
These white distant planes reminds me of... How can I turn back the time, right?
I poured the tea on my cup, sat , and watched the snowfall. It is no longer a beautiful show for me— it will remain as the most horrific event of my life.
Snow maybe white and so pure, but it cages my memories to darkness I’m trying to escape, I’m on my way to the door, but— how can I even tell I’m free if I, myself, is longing for answers, taking my steps back to yesterday?
1995. The words written on my parched-lame diary. I flipped its pages and showed a letter I made for them.
It was my ninth birthday, and the first snowfall I saw.
“Dear Mommy and Daddy,
Thank you, Mom and Dad! This is the best birthday I ever had! I wish you’re always there for me when I celebrate my birthday. Thank you for the gifts, for helping me finding some unique leaves, and also for giving me Max! I love you both!
Loves you dearly,
Louis.”
Such a joyous child.
Is it really me? Too far for who I am now: tangled to the mysteries of the past. These feelings keep flooding me until I choke and burst into tears, facing with different people, remembering how cruel the life is, I’m so distant from them that I don’t talk a lot— incomplete explanation of my reports on my work, and my relatives can’t understand me.
I lived as a miserable man.
My small hands picked some of the oak leaves, and boom!
I was thrown at the grasses, and a big bang came behind my back. Hoping my parents were somewhere alongside the road, but I did hear some people saying, “Help!”
As tension rose, I felt something’s off. I waited ‘til someone approached me and asked, “Are they your parents?”
Puzzled, but I have to look back to the place they described. My Mom and Dad...
They are.
No, they’re not.
Seeing their body soaking in blood, thought it was a dream, it is, but— it’s a dream that seems to be real. No, they’re not. They’re not dead!
I threw my cup somewhere. I still couldn’t believe it happened. They saved me. They saved me, they saved me.
But I didn’t do anything to save them also.
It’s the first snowfall, supposed to be the happiest day in my year of 1995, but they’re gone.
