The Golden Hour

    “The clock struck 5- in the evening and rays of light entered from the window beside him. He turned to that side to put the curtain over the window, then he sat back and smiled.” It was the golden hour, they’d say.

    “That was just for the world outside”, he said.

    It’s a story of a guy named Harry, who lived happily long back ago in Chicago with his family.

    During his childhood days, As he tells me, “A joyful childhood I had, favorite were the evenings and the golden hour, was the best of all!”

    And as I was about to ask him,

    “But, I don’t like it anymore” he interrupted.

    He continued to speak,

    “Warning you before speak Cause this story’s going to tear you apart, Don’t you cry, don’t you try stopping me cry either.

    That was a tough journey I went through, A past, I don’t want to remember.

    One such beautiful evening when I was on my way to home, hoping for some delicious food, cooked by my favorite soul, Mom! I called when nobody answered.

    I looked every-where-around, when I couldn’t find her. Crying, at the corner of the balcony, I saw someone. Sophie, my little sister, who wiped-off her tears, as she heard me and felt me come closer.

    I shivered but I didn’t disclose the fear, She got that, came and stood near. She told me something that left me no where. “Our mom is sick, she’s on the hospital bed.”

    She looked so serious, that feeling of fear got so intense, I bothered not to cry, but didn’t remember when did I begun.

    It left me broken, I felt so frozen. All the thoughts I had- were so unspoken.

    We rushed to the hospital and found her on the bed. The doctor said it’s a terminal illness and that she won’t make out for the rest.

    That room was dark, honestly the walls just had that dull faded look So, I removed the curtains and opened the window,

    It was the golden hour and the sun was yet to set.

    I went and sat beside her, All I could see was her sick and tired face, trying to- still smile for the rest.

    She said, “Don’t you worry my dear. I’ll be happy, when I’ll leave this world. I may live for an hour or two So, you can see me alive, till then let’s talk about something that we should.”

    We continued talking for an hour or so, I helped her divert her mind and did the same, though.

    I said, you won’t leave us.

    (I had a younger sister who was 6-years old and my father stayed countryside so-as-to work).

    I gave her hopes of good days of miracles, of which I myself was so desperate to see become real.

    Although, it was a beautiful day and that was just the golden hour, as I said to her,

    “That is just for the outside world, my son” she said, “It’s not for the anxieties one holds within. Take care of yourself, my Sophh and your father. Whenever you miss me, just go out and feel my presence, in the weather!”

    She smiled and gave me blessings for life. I cried and just held her hand between mine. It was really tough for me to hear her say good bye.

    “I love you, please don’t cry,” she said and continued, “May God Bless You my dear. I’m sorry to say, good bye.”

    She left me and the time was 5 in the evening, I could feel her in the winds, but couldn’t believe it.

     

    Days passed by, we are happily living now, My sister’s working hard and my father is retired from job. All I miss now is my favourite soul, my mumma and, The sunsets remind me of the past I don’t want to remember.”

    The clock struck 5- in the evening and rays of light entered from the window beside him.

    He turned to that side to put the curtain over the window, then he sat back and smiled.

     

    I stood by him, shattered. A story of the golden hour that many of us will always remember!

     

    © -Vanshikaa Saxena

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