Lobar RUSTAMOVA
Someone knocked on my door. Was it you? I stepped outside. I searched for the gardens, ran towards the riverbank. But… I couldn’t find them. My body trembles from the bitter agony of separation, stepping on the fallen leaves that embrace the earth. Tears fall from my eyes from the stabs of longing. “Could this be an illusion? Could it be the wind and not you knocking on my door?!” I remember… It was autumn. You knocked on my door.
“Go outside. Look at nature. Shall we walk in the garden?” I’m checking my written work, finishing it. You couldn’t bear my patience and entered the house:
“You’re wonderful! If I tell you to rest, you won’t listen…” You took my pen.
“You don’t understand how urgent my work is,” I said, bitterly.
“I understand, I’ll look it over later. But now, I want to talk to you for a long time… And by the way, I’ll meet you on the swing.”
“Oh, what’s there on the swing? Didn’t you fly on it when you were young?” I laughed.
“Do you know? Almost, when I could barely walk: when I was young, I really used to fly on the swing, and I’d boast about it to your grandchildren.”
“You confirm that, don’t you?” I asked, looking at you.
“I do,” you said, and sighed. “One day you’ll miss these moments. Don’t regret it.”
“Why do you say that?” I said, my spirit sinking.
“After all, life hasn’t bound us together. But your presence, being near me, is my happiness…”
I followed you. I searched all over. But I couldn’t find you. Now I regret it… I search for you, your gaze filled with love… I want to talk to you, I want to fly on the swing with you. But…
IT WAS WINTER THEN TOO…
Outside, snow… White snowflakes are covering the earth. The trees are dressed in white. An extraordinary silence and serenity…
I remembered you. Do you remember? It was winter then too. Everything was covered in white snow. We were walking along the snow paths. Snowflakes instantly turned you into Santa Claus. I smiled at you. “Santa Claus, where should we ask for directions?” But instead of an answer, you shook the tree right next to us. Snow fell on me… You became Santa Claus… For some reason, I got angry and ran off, offended by you. Then… I looked back. You were still there, looking at me sadly. My heart longed for you. I wanted to run to you, to throw myself into your arms. But my pride wouldn’t let me, I didn’t listen to my heart. Pretending not to notice you, I walked quickly and hid behind a plane tree at the side of the road. I waited for you to come. Then you called my name. I didn’t respond. You called again and again… Finally, you came so close, I could feel your breath. Again, you called. I couldn’t resist; I appeared. You took my hands in yours and said, looking into my eyes: “You’re freezing, runaway. I got scared.” “Why were you scared?” In your eyes, I saw my reflection. Silent. “What happened, speak. Are you mute now?” You warmed my hands with your breath.
“I’m afraid of losing you,” you finally said. “If you’re not near me, my heart will be torn apart. I tested myself. I can’t bear a single breath without you. Please, don’t leave me, don’t leave me alone.” It was winter then, everything was covered in white snow. Now, I am alone, walking on the snowy paths of that same park, searching for you. I repeat your name. In my mind, you’re waiting somewhere. My heart aches with longing. I taste the salty bitterness of tears on my lips. Snowflakes, like that day, hit my face. I miss your words.
You became Santa Claus… In this quiet embrace, your words echo again and again:
“I’m afraid of losing you. Please, don’t leave me, don’t leave me.” The pain of longing… I write your name in the white snow.
Why did you leave me? Why?
I search for you. As if you’re coming out from behind that familiar plane tree. And I miss you, my heart shattering. I feel the warmth of your breath, the warmth of your palms: “You’re freezing.” I sink into the embrace of the snow…
Lobar RUSTAMOVA,
Member of the Union of Writers of Uzbekistan.
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