Mother

by Mykyta Ryzhykh

"I'll put the wedding towel under my feet during the wedding. I've been embroidering loop after loop, red after black, flower after flower for five years. My son and his girlfriend will step on the towel one day and congratulations and smiles of joy will flood in from all sides. Then I too will be able to die of pride for my husband, he's been waiting for me for quite some time. I've been embroidering this towel every night for five years now, but I've never reached the ideal, so I've untied everything dozens of times and redone everything again. Well, you remember, I showed you. There should be something like a coat of arms here. But we're simple people, not kings or the elite, so instead of a coat of arms there will just be a red fiery flower with black charred corners of the petals. When my son returns, I'll show him this finished towel and tell him that it's for his wedding, and that I bless him, let him get married if if he wants, and if he doesn't want, then we'll have the wedding right at home, here near the house. I'll take this sin upon myself, may God forgive me. And then, after we have the wedding, when everything is over, it will be my time to meet God. This towel, look: here on the side I'll add more red, brighter red, the reddest in the world. It's hard to embroider now. My finger is all pricked, it hurts, because I can't see well anymore, so I pass the needle by. But that's not important. The wedding is the most important thing right now. Haven't you heard, dear neighbor, when my son will return?"

"I've been telling you for a year that he was killed, and he won't come home. But you don't listen. You need a blind fortune teller, because you've gone completely crazy, even if you burned down the house at work. You're stupid... Well, okay, it's time for me to go, my husband will be back from the field soon. I have to go... Take care of yourself..." - the neighbor hugged the old woman and left, while she remained sitting at her table by the candle and sewing a towel.

BIO: Mykyta Ryzhykh Author from Ukraine, now living in Tromsø, Norway. Nominated for Pushcart Prize 2023, 2024. Published many times in literary magazines іn Ukrainian and English: Tipton Poetry Journal, Stone Poetry Journal, Neologism Poetry Journal and others