I sat crouched on the grubby ground of my garden trying desperately to catch a moth that, at that time, I thought was a butterfly. After what seemed to my young mind like ages, I leaped towards it. I flung my tiny soiled hands towards the moth and closed my hands into tight fists, making sure that I trapped my butterfly. But I think my move was too hasty and clumsy because the butterfly that I had been staring at like a hawk, flew away.

It fluttered far off, soaring in the sky, flying swiftly towards the dark bushes, which were close to the backdoor of my house. I looked up at the vast blue skies wondering when my mother would get done from her daily chores and come out of the kitchen.

I had been waiting all day for someone, my mother being the obvious choice, to give me a push on the swings that my father recently installed especially for my sixth birthday. I squinted my eyes attempting to look at the sun trying to determine who was stronger; the sun or I. After a few minutes, even this game became very boring. I sighed and looked toward my sister who was already going higher and higher on the swing as if her intention was to kiss the heavens.

I smiled to myself mischievously and got up from the muddy ground wiping my hands on my white shorts. I slowly crept towards her in exactly the same way the lion on the animal planet attacked the poor little goat.

When I had made my mark, with the speed of light I lunged at my sister and bit her on her shoulder until she screamed for help. She swung her arm around in defense and hit me trying frantically to take her revenge, but just like the lion, I dashed towards my house, running too fast for her while I roared with playful laughter.

I guess like butterflies, happiness too, flies off to different arenas, perhaps because there are so many places to go and very little time. As I scurried along the thick bushes of my house I glanced at my mother sitting on the floor. Well there was nothing wrong with sitting on the floor but the way she was just sprawled on the floor reminded me of a discarded candy wrapper. Her face was a mirror image of the kitchen’s white marble floor. She looked like a big white marshmallow clad in clothes.

My heart drummed to an unknown beat as I halted to a stop and peered inside the kitchen through the door. I thought I was in for a scolding and my big furry lion cowered into a rabbit. What I heard instead was something that fragmented my entire world.

“Nani Ama is gone,” my mother whispered aloud. I remember I laughed then because it sounded funny to me because Nani hardly traveled.

“Is she coming here, mama,” I asked her smiling gleefully.

“She’s gone to God,” she murmured, while tears hesitantly leaked from the corners of her eyes.

My vision swirled and I gingerly sat on the ground, I kept thinking that I’ll ask my mother when Nani will be back but I think in my young mind I was scared of what the answer might be. I don’t even remember how long I sat in my garden for. I kept crying in intervals, making stick figure of Nani on the ground with my nails. I guess I fell asleep in the garden because the next thing I remember was mom’s face carrying me to my room and putting me in bed. I remember lying in bed and crying the entire night because I could hear my mother’s stifled cries in the room next.

My world had changed so drastically that I had trouble focusing. It had collided almost demonically into “a reality check” that I wasn’t prepared for. Sometimes when I look back to this day, I can’t help but wish that it happened to somebody else.