Estella

I no longer know her, her name was Estella.

We were children of the hills.

The sun loved her, it followed her everywhere.

We saw each other most days and she would pick me up for church on Sundays.

Dressed in her best, Estella and her wavy hair,

Eyes bright and full of life,

She has my childhood and now it is hidden away.

Can we dream a little more, Estella?

Or have we grown too old?

Sometimes I wear the earrings she gave me

And recite the letters she wrote for me -

Cursive handwriting as dignified as her.

Estella is in a place where I can no longer reach her.

I was always looking at her from behind.

I trudged on the path she paved with ease.

Estella and her flare, the ease with which she navigated life,

A lesson I was taught but could never learn.

I abandoned Estella, I was already 16.

When I started to put on my mother’s heels, I did the most unmotherly thing,

I refused to love her but she had become a mother,

And she continued to love me.

- ៷