The final, fourth piece to my Creative Writing coursework for Year 13. And what a whirlwind it was:
Dear Martha,
I know you would have preferred the
title of ‘mum’, but I have not known you as that. Nor did I get to. I have
lived with you as Martha and though it is only the second name I have known, it
is by far my favourite.
When the warmth suddenly spilled away
from my body, I was not to know that all I had experienced in my gifted cocoon
would be different. Dreamily drifting was my only existence, as my body began
to grow and expand. I did not even question this until my feet began to kick
out at the pillowed walls. I could hear you laughing, a muffled river of vibrations
wriggling into my ears.
As it grew colder, I uncurled my
fingers and felt around my home: I was not nestled but encased. Floating was no
use when there was nothing to make you weightless. My elbows became points,
embedding into my stomach.
Hearing was not clear in my nest: I
translated laughter from when I drummed against the skin and a lurch of the
diaphragm slithered out into the other side and created a hearty booming.
Sometimes, the outside was quiet and I thought there may never be sound again;
when sound did knock again, however, I became full and content. When I wasn’t,
I would become restless and I would hear that laugh of yours once more. It was
our own secret game.
The noises were loud, louder than the
word will describe: a wavering note so sharp I wanted to scrabble the other
way, even though there was no other way to go. You were in pain, or what I
believe to be pain. I know it wasn’t in me but I felt it: we were still
connected.
Before, we were not only connected
physically but I felt you too. When he clomped near and lightly squeezed us,
you began to buzz in your blood and everything was balmy. Yet, when he was
silent, your songs ceased for just a moment: a longing for him?
Leading up to the moment, I experienced
these two perpetually. You had emotional pain, unlike the jarringly physical we
would face, together.
As I struggled further from my soft
shell, the sounds became more intense and the atmosphere was heavy, yet not
with warmth as of before, but of air. I did not like it yet I kept crawling; I
knew you needed me to.
This was the moment when our connection
was at its strongest: our hearts were bouncing as rapid as one-another’s, as we
jerked and strained together.
I never did get to explore further than
that heavy air but I doubt I would have liked it. Martha, I do not know how you
enjoy swimming in that, compared to the warmth you provided me. Or, maybe it
was your sacrifice for me.
I believe our skin finally met, but by
then, the dense air had halted from circulating my body. Do not worry yourself
that I disliked those minutes, for although I was not enclosed in you, I was
really with you.
I never did experience pain in the end.
Nor depression or guilt or illness. But, Martha, I did always feel love. I will
always love you like you have loved me for all this time.
I hope to see you soon,
Sofia
(I believe this is the name you
labelled me. I do like it very much; it is my second favourite, after yours.)
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