H E R

I am called with many, but to her it’s first. Then there were two and three. Who would’ve thought that we were breathing the same air, digging the same hole, facing the same wall and gazing at the same sky. After the rainy season, we’re always waiting for the jasmine tree to bloom where we would sit by the window. Blooming or not, it had never been an issue. Because she would tell us to bring the chair back, clean our crumbs, and sweep the floor. We didn’t mind. We loved it. We were happy.

She was a porcelain. Made of china bone. But being forged with titanium inside. She had no doubts nor hesitation to choose color to paint. She had no doubts nor hesitation to look at the palette and trace the colors. She had no doubts nor hesitation to share her findings to her threes. She had no doubts nor hesitation to be imminent with her threes. She had no doubts nor hesitation to have repetition to remind them about their existence.

Colors to threes was the reason of their existence nowadays. They chose their colors. Carefully. Perfectly. It may not seem like rainbow, but for them it was. Although sometimes She would draw them back to their roots, to her color which she had prepared for them with her titanium walls.

To Her, they are hers with all her colors. Needed to be protected in her walls. To them, She was their savior of their future. She and Threes would separate and unite. Seeing eye to eye and from each sides were not their strongest point. But they knew, that they wouldn’t be a thing without each.

~WA~

 

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