Rosary

We all pray in the living room, where we have a huge image of Mary and beside her a crucifix and many other figures. I start the rosary first, then my older brother, then my older sister, then my oldest brother, and then my oldest sister. We each say one decade. It’s past midnight. I stutter and say the wrong prayer multiple times. My eyes slowly start to close. But it’s strange. The burning sensation when I close my eyes hurts. I look around the room and see everyone rubbing their eyes. I started to pray slowly as I noticed my voice start to shake and quiver even more. But no one says anything as they sob and grab more tissues. The cold room just makes it even worse. The hairs on my arm go up ever so slightly as I feel the fan turning towards me. My knees on the cold floor feel like I’m kneeling on ice. Who knew he had so little time? Offering this rosary for the boy who passed away too soon.

Tough Wind

I had always believed winter to be cold and gloomy. My parents have never celebrated it with the family. What would it be like? Would it be as cold as ice cream on a cold and windy afternoon? Would it be as cold as getting your feet wet in the morning at the ocean? The nerves kick in as I’m about to ask. About to ask if I can hang out with my friends for Christmas. My parents look at me, give me a one-hour talk about how I’m too young to be hanging out with my friends, compare me with my siblings, and in the end, say no. I can’t convince them. It’s as if I’m talking to parrots that only know how to say no. Not in a rude way but in a disappointing way. In a way which makes my heart feel sour that they don’t trust me. I go to my room stepping over my small Christmas tree I had set up without them noticing and quietly close the door that separates us. I look at my window, blowing hot air until it fogs up, and I draw a small bird. But not just any small bird. A small bird able to fly for miles and miles through the cold. A small bird able to realize that the challenges it comes across will only allow it to grow stronger. A small bird who is able to understand that although winter is filled with cold and gloom, it’s filled with a God who adores it. This small bird is able to fly with ease, and of course, he’ll come across rough winds, but those rough winds will only allow it to grow stronger wings. Wings strong enough to cut through the tough sky. The drawing of the small bird on the window fades away as if nothing ever happened, leaving only the reflection of a young girl. A young girl whose eyes are watery like the ocean. A young girl with a whole sky in front of her.