 
River of memories
Nothing has changed. The river
was flowing silently. The huge mango tree shaded my home. Temple flowers
decorated the sandy banks of the river. As I came closer I was entrapped
by the odour of all wild flowers.
The moment I touched the small wooden gate I remembered small
incidents which were thought to be insignificant and forgotten. I saw
myself but about fifteen years younger opening the same gate and running
towards mother who was standing in the shade of the frangipane tree. I
ran and wrapped my hands around her hip. We both stared at the river.
While stroking my hair she asked what happened at school. I heard myself
saying.
“Mum, when I grow up I want to be a doctor”
“My Darling, up to this moment you told me that you want to be an
artist but why did you change your mind?”
That day I was too small to reason out. I knew I had to do it but I
hadn’t words to express why I had to do it. The wind blew hard. The
river splashed water to the banks and the image of the distant past
dissolved away.
I opened the wooden gate and entered the gravel path. I saw the
shadow of mango tree dancing on the ground due to the gentle breeze. I
was strucked by another memory. I saw myself twelve years younger the
time I was a university student.
 “In a year. I would be a doctor, are you happy mum?”
“Yes, dear, You will be kind and helpful to everyone”.
“And mum think how much I will earn. I will buy a new house and a
brand new car.”
She gave me a searching glance.
“Aren’t you satisfied with all this?” She asked me waving her hand
around.
“You think I can be satisfied with these weeds and a hut? We are
poor. Admit it even now. What did father leave for you?
This piece of land and me. You talked lot about his painter’s life
but it was just useless.”
I knew every word was like a dagger to her. But that day I found
words to tell all my reasons. I still think if those bitter truths were
never put to words it would have been better.
“You don’t love me mum. That’s why you didn’t try to give me all
comforts you are still brooding on father’s fancies.”
If I can take back those words I would take all of them will all her
tears.
  She just stared at the shadows and said: “Money isn’t everything,
son.”
That day I left and swore never to step in to the poverty again. Yet
after 20 years I was facing my home. Things in my life have changed a
lot. Now I am a doctor married to the country’s richest gentleman’s
daughter. My wife eloped with a guy last month. I have a mansion only
for myself and I have an “Astran Martin” car in my garage. Everyday
someone deep in my heart murmurs: “Money isn’t everything”.
I entered my home. She hasn’t changed. When I stood behind her I saw
that with trembling fingers she was strocking an old photo of mine. I
had a childish feeling to wrap my hands around her neck and give a peck
of kiss on her rosy cheeks. As I did it I heard a quick intake of
breath. I went forward to tell her. “Mum, I’m back”.
I lifted her face from the chin and looked in to her eyes. Her eyes
weren’t sparkling.
But one tear rolled down on her cheek and fell on my palm and it
mingled with my tears when I knew that though the river heard she would
never hear my apologies.
- Kethmini Hasara Dharmasena
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