Back and Forth

She was like a canvas painted on the mirror, drooling over her eyes, the most beautiful sight of the painting. She combed her grey hair which seemed sober yet crispier than the blonds nearby. Her wrinkles on the forehead reminded me of curtain foldings, deep yet elegant.

"What are you looking at, son?"- said Grandma.

I nearly jumped to my feet thinking how hard was I breathing that knocked her ears.

" Nothing, just wanted to ask if you are better than before?"- my voice still shaking.

Her soft voice mumbled - "Yeah son, Thankyou. Will you come here and sit next to me?"

I quietly walked in and sat next to her, thinking how bad am I in hiding.

She's an inspiration, whose beauty has never faded, despite of wrinkles and grey hair trying hard to shadow her loveliness .

This twelve-year old boy has hardly seen her moving out of this room, never since last month, but was amazed by the fact that she knew every possible event going beyond these white walls, which have grown pale over years.

"How's everything going downstairs?" - her words protruded my thoughts  running like a railway buzz.

"Mom's cooking food and Dad will be back in an hour. Aren't you getting bored up here?"

She laughed heartily and simply replied - "No, how many times will you ask this to me? It's almost everyday."

"Sharon! Where are you? Dinner's ready!" - Mom whooped, suddenly breaking the air of silent love trespassing between us.

"Yeah mom! Coming downstairs."- my mouth blurted.

I waved back to her, gave her my porcelain smile and reassured to come back with her supper. Just eight steps down the stairs and Mom stood there, holding a suspicious look on her face.

"What were you doing upstairs?"- her stern look and arms tightly folded close to her chest grabbed more attention than the aroma of salami half-cooked.

" Oh! I forgot to tell you! Just met Grandma, she wasn't well yesterday, right? She's a nice lady, why do you do this to her?" - words tumbled out like storms falling on the roof.

I swear, for the first time in my life, I saw her shrieking and crying all at once at me - "How many times have I told you not to go upstairs? You crazyhead! Don't you know your Grandma died last week? There's no one up there."

She took me by my hand, clenched my wrists tightly and took me eight steps back, upstairs.

"What do you see?" - she pointed towards the door.

I was shattered to see what my eyes were looking at, I squealed - " Ohno! I just left it open, who locked it?"

She yelled, complained, threw angry words at me, but my ears were barely listening to her, my senses had gone numb. What about her composed look on the mirror and her soft voice? What about her smile that automatically turned on mine? Oh! For how long was I fooling myself when I clearly remembered how hard I cried last week!

Was she a dream or was I dreaming?

All I could hear at the end was - "We've lost her, we don't want to lose your touch to reality, dear son." And then, she hugged me tightly, rubbing my back warmly with aromatic hands, reminding me to just stay in the web of reality.