The Fairy I Met - A Story of Life Unfolding
When her daughter slips into retardation after an accident, and the husband leaves her for another woman, a fairy comes into her life.
Story: S A Spencer
“Mum, have you seen any fairy?” the three-year-old girl asks her mother, who is sitting to my side on the Sydney local train. The train has stopped for an indefinite period because of an accident somewhere ahead of us.
Passengers on the train begin chatting with their unknown
co-passengers. Some like me keep the head buried in books.
“They are only in movies and books.” The mother answers the
girl with a smile and continues surfing her tablet. The child also has an iPad
with her. She is watching a cartoon.
“I have seen a fairy.” I say, looking sideways at her.
“Pardon?” the mother whips her head at me.
I have eavesdropped. Guilt rolls through me, but only for a
moment. “I said, a fairy is my friend.”
“I always try to bring out my baby from the world of fiction
she is in, thanks these cartoons. I’m a realistic person.”
“I am not talking about the fairy you see in the movies or children’s
storybooks. I know a real one. Spoke to her.”
The guard’s announcement booms from the speakers. “Good
morning, customers. Because of some emergency, the train may stop here for more
time. Apologies for the inconvenience. We will keep you updated as soon as we
get more information.”
The woman folds her tablet and smiles at me. “Would you mind
to…”
“Sure.”
I continue.
I see that woman almost every day when I go for my morning
walk in Blacktown Showground near my home. She must be seventy plus. The
kilometre long jogging track circles around the park, but we both walk the
pattern we are used to. I do clockwise and she does the opposite.
Anticlockwise. Because of this, we face each other a few times during that hour.
The first time we greet each other with a ‘good morning’ and the next
with only a smile.
Sometimes I feel my smile is just a formal one to
reciprocate her big and hearty one. Without a formal contact, I have imagined
so many situations for her.
She is an Indian, and is always in Indian clothing, a salwar
suit. And I was sure she has migrated to live with her son, maybe the only son
who takes care of her in her old age. I have seen similar situation with some
of my Indian neighbours in this part of Western Sydney.
I am a Filipino woman, divorced, no child and focussing on
my career.
It was just another Sunday. I wake up late. When I glance at
my watch, it is almost an hour late. I slip into my jogging tracks and spin on
my heels. Within minutes, I’m in the park. The sky looks overcast. I should have
brought an umbrella, or even checked the weather forecast before stepping out.
I plan for a moment to go back home and bring an umbrella. But the thought that
I might miss seeing the woman stops me. She might be just finishing and at
least I can say ‘hello, good morning’ to her.
Arriving at the park when I begin my routine round, I fear
she might have already finished and gone home.
Probably I am right.
I continue my walk. Almost halfway through rain patters.
This is April, and being the southern hemisphere, winter is round the corner. I
look for a shelter and run towards it before rain drench me.
Look who is there?
“Hello lady, good morning. I thought you got other plans
today.” She was there, resting on the bench of the picnic table.
I sit down opposite of her. This would be almost three
months since we have seen each other on the jogging track. But for the first
time we talk to each other.
She had migrated to Australia to on a parent visa after her
husband died. And within six months, her only granddaughter met an accident
where her left side head was hit leading to brain injury and resulting in
retardation.
I inhale a deep breath. “Too bad. Sorry to know. A normal four-year-old
becoming a retarded overnight. Your son and daughter-in-law must be having a
tough time.”
She lets out a sad smile. “No, my son was having a good time
with her new girlfriend and asking for a divorce. His wife was devastated. The
timing was odd, when the doctor said the girl may continue like this and need
special care.”
“That is so insensitive! He is the father and should be
around when the child needs him. Don’t divorced parents take care of the
children in terms?”
“Probably. But he moved to Canada to be with his new girl. Of
course, he sends money regularly. But his baby daughter needs a father to care
for her, not his money.”
Several thoughts cross my mind. Here is the woman who came
to live with her son after losing the husband. How is she surviving when the
son has left the country leaving her alone?
“Are you planning to go back to India? After all…”
“No, I am with my daughter-in-law.”
“Do you mean ex daughter-in-law?”
A warm smile lightens her face. “She is my
ex-daughter-in-law. But I consider her as my daughter. When my son is gone,
doesn’t she need a family to help her with her child? Her own mother is dead. Who
else would be with her?”
This arrangement is totally beyond my imagination. An ex-mother-in-law
has bonded with ex daughter-in-law and living together like a mother and
daughter!
After coming back home, I think of the woman again. My mum
was a single mother. Keeping myself in her daughter-in-law’s shoes, I imagine.
How a mother would face the world when her baby becomes retarded overnight and
at the same time the husband vanishes to another geographical territory with a
new woman?
I sweat at the thought.
But God sometimes sends fairies to such people.
“Attention, customers.” The PA system quietens the chatting
in the carriage. “Finally, good news. The train will start shortly.”
The woman on my side chortled. “See, even talking about the
fairy brings luck.”
S A Spencer- I will bring more stories for your entertainment. Please follow me on Facebook and Twitter so that you know when a new story comes.
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it indeed is beautiful one, I loved it.🥰🥰
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