Episode 18: Memories sweet and sour

MmaSipho had fixed them breakfast by the time Sipho got out of the bathroom.
“Oh ma, why didn’t you wake me up, I am going to be so late mara!”
Sipho found her mom singing in the kitchen as she came in with shoes in her one hand and her bags in the other.

She threw the bags on the table and hooped on one foot trying to put on the other shoe, until she balanced herself with the fridge. Luckily she still had some clothes at her mom’s and dear old mom took out black pants, blue shit and a baby blue and white scarf and made sure they were wearable as she knew her daughter would be late in the morning. Like she did always when she had spent the night with mommy dearest.

Sipho slept like her dad each first night of the start of the holidays or any long weekend.
“So when do I get to meet this mysterious man that is so all over you?” her mom asked while handing her the car keys.

“I don’t know if he is worth the time he spends in my head yet. Can you believe that I spent almost two months thinking about him, without even knowing his name or anything about him? After Katlego, I told myself that I’ll never let this happen, I thought that what we had, what I felt when I was with him and thinking about him, can never happen ever. There fall out was enough torture on its own to last me my whole life. The flash backs are still that painful and exhausting, it is like I’ll forever be in recovery  but thinking of the many great times we had ease the pain greatly. I mean look how beautiful my life turned out, from the mess I was. Ijo mma wee, look at the time ma! I love you lots mom, but I have to go now, we’ll talk again sometime soon okay.”

Sipho went out running, her mom was left with the memories of that awful day when the lives of the two families were changed dramatically. No mother should ever see her children in such a position.
Sipho’s mind was not on the road, when the driver behind her hooted. The traffic light had turned green, then amber, without Sipho noticing. She was thinking about the same thing as her mother.

It took her two and half years to interact with people in public, and to openly speak about that horrible day. Oh mothers, what are we without that sixth sense, why did Katlego’s mom ignore that motherly instinct burning inside her the moment she saw her son? This ideology that men don’t cry is really killing our boy children, including grown men in our society.


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