Agonia.Net | Policy | Mission Contact | Participate
poezii poezii poezii poezii poezii
armana Poezii, Poezie deutsch Poezii, Poezie english Poezii, Poezie espanol Poezii, Poezie francais Poezii, Poezie italiano Poezii, Poezie japanese Poezii, Poezie portugues Poezii, Poezie romana Poezii, Poezie russkaia Poezii, Poezie

Article Communities Contest Essay Multimedia Personals Poetry Press Prose _QUOTE Screenplay Special

Poezii RomÔnesti - Romanian Poetry


Texts by the same author

Translations of this text

 Members comments

print e-mail
Views: 2591 .

My Lost Son
prose [ ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [monika_david ]

2007-12-20  |     | 

It was in the morning, about seven o'clock. I made breakfast, I drank my coffee and like everyday, I went to his door and knocked slowly, not to scare him. Nobody answered. I opened the door and went inside noiselessly. In my surprise, there was no one in the room. My mind was confuse. I stood there, motionless, for several minutes. Thousands things and thousands thoughts were coming to me, yet I couldn't think clearly about one single thing.
I sat on the bed watching careful everything from the room. The room was a mess. How it's possible that a boy only 12 years old could bring so many things home? And where I was?
Clothes thrown everywhere, clothes that I never saw before. I wonder who bought them. Magazines, papers, all torn and thrown everywhere. Pictures so strange, CDs with music I've never heard before about. The smile of the room was awful. Standing there, I felt that I have no air, I opened the windows as wide as it's possible.
When he had changed so much? And why I didn't see any change? How I could be so blind? I started to search through the drawers. There were a few letters from teachers. They sent me to go to school but I never knew it. It was very clear that Stephan, my son didn't go to often to school, and when he did, he brought only problems. I thought everything was going just fine.
Since I got divorced, I worked so hard. I did everything I could to make his life, our life better. But maeby I was left to much time. In time I forgot that my son needs more than money and material things.
At the bank, from the morning till four o'clock afternoon. Then at the others companies for I'm an accountant.
How I got here? How I could neglect my son so much? What happened to me? To us? Tears were coming down on my cheecks. I had to do something. I was wondering where did he go so early or maybe he left last night after I went to bed. I felt fury and fear and anger, regrets for a lot of things I've done and a lot of things I should have done. And I felt a strong desire to see my son, to hold him in my arms. But was no time for feelings, I had to start doing something.
I called at my office and I took a few days off. I made myself another coffee and went again to his room, this time ready for work.
I picked up the clothes and changed the sheets. The papers, magazines, pictures, CDs, I threw them all to garbage.
Years ago, we used to do so many things in that room. Oh... the old days, we used to play together, to do his homeworks together, we used to talk... He used to tell stories, funny stories and I was listening to him for hours. We were so close to each other.
I finished everything in the room. Now it looked fine. I brought a few plants and some wild flowers, he used to like this kind of flowers. I also made a cake and his favorite food. Then was nothing else to do except to wate him to come home.
Hours passed and nothing happened. He didn't come home. I called to the school but the only thing I had was a good scold, that I don't know to raise my son. Then I called the police. They told me to waite 48 hours and to call again if he wouldn't show up.
The sun started to come down and he was still somewhere out there. The night passed and he didn't come. I couldn't sleep no one moment. The fear that something bad could have happened to him terrorized me. Where he could have been? In the morning I called again the police. They asked me to go to the police station with a picture of my son. From the police station, I went out on the streets. I didn't want to go home without him. I couldn't stand any more that wait. I didn't even know who were his friends.
The dusk fell again and I was still rambling on the streets. The twilight silence was so kind that everything looked like a scenery and I was just a stranger in the picture. Birds were flying to their nests, the animals slept. Only the wind was fluttering my hair wich was wiping out my tears. In the air I could smell the flowers perfume.
I looked up to the sky. God... it's so long since I forgot to look up, to pray. I felt so guilty. Maeby God wouldn't let me down right now. I just want my son back.

.  |

shim Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests. shim
poezii  Search  Agonia.Net  

Reproduction of any materials without our permission is strictly prohibited.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net

E-mail | Privacy and publication policy

Top Site-uri Cultura - Join the Cultural Topsites!