Picture by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
My mother has old photos that she almost always admires.
In the photo, there are images of city buildings that look mysterious.
There is romance and splendor in tall buildings with arched roofs.
Once I asked my mother about the place, then she showed me the place in the present with an unexpected face.
In the picture I see a city like in Italy with canals and boats, while people who are dressed neatly and look stiff are seen enjoying the day.
It looks like the photo was taken in colonial times.
I'm quite disappointed when it comes to the place in the current photo.
All warmth is now replaced with sticky heat.
At night, the smell of fish, or rotten cabbage is compounded by pungent urine, making the place even more seedy.
If that's still not enough, feel free to add that old b*tch with a completely unattractive body in it.
But I realized that time can destroy anything, get rid of the sweet and good things, and then make you so different in the present, which is very unlucky.
My mother always stares at pictures of the city. I'm sure there must be some very strong memories of that.
I know very well from the look in her eyes. But I don't know if it's a sweet or a bitter memory, as I know that those eyes are really emotional.
She is more often seen sitting on the front porch in the evenings, the world around her being sucked in that single photo, and she will ignore anything or anyone at all.
In the past, as a child, I used to protest against her attitude, but then she would look at me with changed eyes. Hated, furious, sad, and it wasn't often she looked happy at that moment.
If only I had a father, maybe he would rub my head and comfort me and say: let it be, your mother missed something.
But there was never a father figure for me, my mother said my father died while I was still in the womb.
Mom never told him what he was like, maybe it was too painful for her.
Family? Trust me, there is no such word in our life dictionary.
Mother said that being independent is the key to surviving the rigors of life.
That advice seems to stick with me. I don't know if that's true, or if I'm really being forced to become an independent person.
Ignorance can turn someone into a loser, but I chose to fight back. I want to live, and I want to understand it.
So I studied furiously in the place of education, devouring a much larger share of knowledge than I should have.
My accomplishments changed our lives completely. I have everything because of my success, except the care from my mother.
Really, it sounds really sad, but it's worth remembering that the greatest person ever, is the loneliest person.
And really, after my mother's death, the loneliness was so devastating and so unbearable.
One month has passed, and I couldn't help but enter her room. I don't know what I'm looking for. Even the smallest memories seem worthy of learning.
When the door opened, I imagined my mother was sitting facing the window, her white hair in the breeze.
There was not much she left, everything was simple and not too much. The room was very quiet, and without a figure, the emptiness became more pronounced.
Then, I saw a picture of the city in a desk drawer. Now the photo looks yellowish, but there is nothing extraordinary in it , at least to me.
What does this photo mean? How important is this photo?
In the chaos of overwhelming emotions, I felt irresistible jealousy from the photo.
Why my mother's brownish black eyes, with all the passion she have, she always look on this damn photo sheet?
Why is the hand that never caresses my hair always rubbing this photo?
I have to find out the reason behind it all, at least with understanding, I can make peace with this emptiness.
Without thinking, I headed for the next building which I used as a workspace as well as a personal space to spill everything on my head.
I have to leave immediately, my destination is clearly defined according to the four-digit description on the back of the photo. I couldn't get rid of the nervousness and worry during my trip in this magical city.
I can't pretend anymore, I know very well only the pain remains in my mother's memory of the place.
I know that for a long time, it's just that I can't admit it, I don't want to.
Thoughts and worries continued to haunt me until then, bright light came and seemed to eat my whole body, then I fell unconscious.
Suddenly it hit me in a dark alley. The pleasant scent of sea water is accompanied by the warm air of a coastal town.
Everything happened very fast. A muffled screaming sound from a woman and a repulsive growl from a man. I knew what was going on and immediately started looking for the source of the sound.
At the end of the dead end, I saw two human figures in the dark, the figure of the man who seemed to be pressing the woman.
I ran towards them with clenched fists. I hit the man on the head with all my strength so that he fell backwards. His body, which was not as strong as mine, was shivering with surprise and fear. Before I said a word, I kicked him into the lower part of his belly that wasn't covered by his pants.
A muffled scream escaped his mouth, the moon that was previously covered in mist gave off a pale light. Really the man's face looks very pale. The shock and horror were clear, and I froze when I saw her face that looked a little like mine.
That opportunity was not wasted by that pathetic man, he fled like a lost monster.
The woman then approached me, looking grateful. But the surprise I can expect stopped her steps.
"Who are you and that man?", "Because you look like him", she asked.
I was silent for a while, then I understood everything when I saw brownish black eyes with all the sadness.
She is my mother.
"Fragments of your story," I replied hoarsely and I felt my cheeks warm with tears later.
The woman took one step forward, then a few more so she could feel my face.
"You are very similar," she said softly. "But, thank you for saving me, "she said."
Her face looks absolutely gorgeous, and the slight smile on her lips really makes me happy.
I never saw my mother smile and happiness never seemed to approach her, what a sacrifice worth it.
I looked into her eyes carefully and took her two fragile hands, then wiped them on my face.
The warmth of her palms was so conciliatory, and perhaps, she too had realized what was going on somehow, as tears flowed from her two clear eyes as my body began to fade with light leaking from the tiny cracks. above my skin.
Then, I spoke the words that should have been spoken a long time ago. Words that might have lessened her pain a little, words that I always wanted to say until she died but still failed to come out.
"I love you mom ......"
Then, my body was split into small shining dust that was scattered about.
My existence was finally swallowed up by a change of destiny.
Declaration:
I certify that my entry to the The Ink Well Writing Prize is my own original work and has been published exclusively to The Ink Well and my Hive profile. I understand that my entry may be excluded from the Writing Prize if I have not met the Rules of Entry and the Community Rules. The Ink Well and the Writing Prize is supported by the 
