IMPULSE

It was well past noon when she made her way back to her small cottage,hands filled with groceries that she kept for the orphaned children that sometimes visited her.

They were beggars, with muddy feet and filthy clothes that didn't get their share of food most of the days. Such is a life of the poor and helpless.

She had only been around beggars, poor commoners and slaves all her life. She knew how they were. They were familiar.

But as she stared at the children playing outside,she couldn't help but think that, that man was different.

She could feel it in his words, albeit she didn't notice at first.

She was born out of wedlock from a foreign merchant,and after making her mother pregnant,he had conveniently left for the horizon. So her mother gave birth to her,right here in this cottage.

Who would have wanted to accept a child coming from a commoner's womb,right? This was the so class high class society she knew.

This was the noble men and women who oh-so-convieniently would exploit the benefits off of the commoners, before throwing them away like rotten oranges.

She felt a bitter taste in her mouth as she looked out at the bunch of merchants unloading a cow carriage of various goods.

Her mother had died when she was twelve years old. After wasting her body away trying to raise her, she had finally succumbed to the deathly disease,what they call typhus thesedays.

She sighed, thinking that going down memory lane would bring her nothing but more heartache.

Thinking that she should get the food ready for the kids,she dashed into the kitchen.

It was well into evening when the had left after having their meals, and she was sitting in her room with one of the old books she used to love reading she realized something.

She stared at the window, almost as if she expected a certain dignified stranger to lounge on on her window ledge,raven hair flying all around..but to her chagrin, there was nobody there.

She would be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed. Perhaps, a little sad too.

She had never seen anyone apologise so much,and to be honest it was baffling. Even the local merchants only throw her a annoyed look after bumping into her in the road, much less an apology she usually doesn't get acknowledged, even.

I wonder what his name was..

She wondered how it's like to travel around...

Weirdly enough, she felt an unfamiliar tug in her heart. There was a part of her that she kept locked away from view,that was innately curious about everything.

For a small town girl like her to dream big was not something she could probably achieve, that's what lead her to smothering any flame of curiosity in her mind. For years, it had stayed dormant,almost as if it wasn't there at all.

But as she looked around at the familiar old room that smelled of lotus oil, she felt her skin itch,she felt uncomfortable.

I wonder how land of Théo is like...

Is it anything like the old folktales in the library says,she wondered. She wondered if they have flying chariots and skyscrapers that are made of glasses..

She chuckled. She would have liked to go on an adventure and see new places.

Perhaps make a friend,or two on the way. Do new things with others of my age..

She realized that she wanted to,and the realisation made something in her break free. It felt exhilarating.

She laughed out loud,I wonder if he would have taken me along if I had asked yesterday.

The idea seemed funny to her,asking a total stranger to take her along in a place she didn't know. But she couldn't help the slightest tremor in her hand as she thought of it.

She felt excited.

She threw the book on her bed,now abandoning all notion of a quiet evening reading books, and padded to the only picture of her mother she could keep.

She stood in front of the portrait of her mother,she was nine years old when her mother had made this by a painter who was a regular in her shop.

In the portrait, there was a nine year old her, smiling up at her mother as she held up a bunch of sunflowers. Her mother had her hand wrapped around the tiny pair of arms trying to hold the flowers together with the happiest smile in her face. Loving. Cherished. Warm.

That was what she remembers of her mother. She doesn't have many memories with her mother but her mother had loved her with all that she had,and she knew that.

Mothee had to give up her dream of becoming a singer after giving birth to her,but she had never harboured any contempt for me whatsoever.

Feeling nostalgic, she touched the frame with her fingertips.

"Mommy,I sometimes wonder what you would do if you were me. Would you have listened to your heart an or would you have stayed here, if I was not here?"

She chuckled,she could almost feel her mother pat her head as she broke into that unrestrained laughter,that made her think that the world would be a little brighter if mommy smiled.

She could almost hear her, saying, like she used to, honey,I don't regret you. You were the best thing that has happened to me. But I would be lying if I said I still don't want to follow my own dreams. So if there comes a day where you're confused as to what is the right thing to say, just do what your heart tells you.

She wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand,and smiled a watery smile at the picture.

She ran up to her room and pulled out whatever she could find useful,all the money she had saved over the years, grabbed her winter coat and went out the door without looking back.

I'm going in a long journey mama.

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