Languages and Education Consultant

 

 

Expired childhood

 

 

 

She held me and whispered that all would be ok, but I could sense it wouldn’t. I could smell the fear on her skin, the iron taste of angst in her breath. She held me closer and I could sense the wave of sorrow that hit her, over and over, stronger at each instant, like waves crashing against the shore in a stormy day.

The air felt heavy with tension, as if it had suddenly turned toxic mould that would, ultimately, steal all the air from both our lungs. I felt her head dropping against my shoulder and, although she kept repeating that all would be well, the tears dripping against my skin filled me with the certainty that she was lying. That was the exact moment in time when my childhood expired.