Frozen eyes in the middle of spring.

A little blossom fell down on the ground. No one noticed or even saw, the way it died underneath the city lights. Soon, its colour began to fade.  The next morning, shoes had crushed every memory out of its petals. Just as simply as that, the little blossom faded from nature, as love had faded from my father’s eyes.

He would sit there every day, underneath the now weeping tree, close to that very spot where the little blossom saluted the earth. Eyes frozen over in the middle of spring, waiting for the days to turn his heart into dust. Something so small we wouldn’t even notice it.

I loved this man, though I did not know him. I could merely look at him as if I was trying to read a book in a language I didn’t understand.  He was an undeniable part of my life but I believe we shared nothing more than the branches of our family tree. No one really got through to him.

Except for my mother maybe, who would gently lay her hand on my shoulder as I stared at him outside the window. The warmth of her hand would console me and she would turn me away from the glass and my father’s icy figure.

“Why does he never smile, mom? Why won’t he say a word?”

She would sit me down and slide her fingers through my hair. I could tell she was hurt by my will to understand. Simply because that’s what children do, they try to love their parents beyond any explanation.

“When you forget who you really are,” she whispered “and you realize you never fought to reach your dreams, frustration and anger steal the smiles from your face. “

“And the words?” I looked up at her.

“Ooh…after a while, there’s no words left to explain how you feel. So you forget those too.”

It was difficult for me to grasp, but at the same time I did catch the hopeful tone in my mother’s voice. I was never to become like my father, careless and beaten down by hurt inflicted on myself.

So every time I felt puzzled in life, heartbroken or misunderstood, I would feel my mother’s warm hand on my shoulder and see my father’s reflection behind my eyes. Every time, again and again, I would promise myself to never scare the smiles and words away.

☆✿ ☆✿☆✿ ☆✿·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●✿✿.。.:* ☆:* ✿ *:☆*.:。.✿✿●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·✿

Just a little short story to remind you to follow your dreams and heart at all times.

Froe ♥


2 thoughts on “Frozen eyes in the middle of spring.

  1. I can’t even tell you how beautiful this is. It’s an entire story. It’s a broken childhood with a longing for a father who never was there, it’s the pain of the mum and the numbness of the father. I can feel it all. You are such a talented writer that I can feel every emotion. Every breath of ice that father drew outside, and every piece of wonder in the child’s heart. I can feel it all, and only you can make me feel so much only through your words.

    Froe, you are a blessed human ❤

    • I feel blessed because of my readers, who acknowledge the little films that play in my head through my writing and make them their own. Thank you. My words mean nothing without yours x

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