Little One

The morning breeze felt strangely different. The sunrise was somewhat shy, hiding behind light clouds. It looked more beautiful, with its rays hitting the clouds and forming an orange hue. It’s another day in the hills. Jomba has been living with his grandfather for a year now. He is growing strong. He is learning how to hunt birds with slingshots and tiny arrows. His young spirit is exploring his newfound home. It’s been a while since he has had a homesick nightmare. He hasn’t thought of his mother as much lately but she crosses his mind. With so much hope, he plays with the clear waters in the stream and has imaginative conversations with his mother. His Grandpa lets him. He knows he misses her, and so does he. She had died a year ago from breast cancer and he took the boy as his own.

The breeze brought thick fog. Jomba will not go out as he is used to. All his beloved hobbies are outdoors, hunting, and running, and his playful nature feels trapped in the house but he finds something to do with his time as the weather changes to heavy rainfall. He imagines himself as the god of thunder, he roars with the thunder and strikes his imaginative stick on the walls before the lightning strikes. It makes him feel mighty, he laughs by himself. The grandfather is fascinated by his bravery. Most kids would curl up or run when they hear thunder but not Jomba. Something inside him remains fearless and he admires that. They never talk about his mother even though he is a bit older now. The grandfather still thinks the boy isn’t ready.

‘Look, the rainbow.’ Jomba is thrilled. He hangs by the window and counts the colours he can see as his grandfather helps him name them one by one. He is never too tired of his inquisitive nature. Jomba says ‘i hope mommy can see the rainbow‘. The grandpa assures him that she will see it. He sneaks behind him to tickle him. Jomba playfully giggles and runs from the window to the door.

The drizzle, the rain is falling lightly. The sunshine is becoming clearer. The earth is singing. Butterflies emerge. The day is alive again. Little jomba is running around chasing butterflies and jumping on the grass as the grandpa watches from a distance. What a wild little one, he thinks.