24 April 2007

I trailed along behind Jessica as she sauntered along the aisles in the provision shop, headed to the back to get the pack of salt that our mother had sent us to get. Finally. Some freedom.

I treasured every of such little shopping trips out with my elder sister, despite the lack of conversation during these trips. Every second was precious, every second away from my mother’s overbearing presence was like being freed from a windowless room.

I glanced longingly over at Jessica, taking in the image of a slim girl in an indigo cotton blouse tucked neatly into a pair of white denim shorts. We were so similar; so close, yet so far apart. She had everything I wanted; or rather, just one thing that I had always wished for – freedom. She never had to suffer under the suffocating fawning of our mother. Not once. She could do anything she wanted, while I was stuck indoors, confined within four walls nearly all the time. All because of my stupid limp. As much as I wanted to forget it, my mother keeps harping on it, using it as a reason for everything, be it going out with friends or doing physically exhausting exercises. I knew my sister was envious that I got all the attention. I had discovered that unintentionally last year, on the very day of Christmas eve.