Wrinkles
Category A: Highly Commended (2024) Monash Short Story Writing Competition
Author: Damira Bolat
The hair in her nostrils stood up as the fresh and lovely aroma made its way to the living room where Stacey was playing with her brothers.
“Mama,” Stacey called. She ran down to the kitchen, evoking an earthquake which echoed loudly through the hall. She slapped her hands on the counter.
“You making brownies?” she asked.
Her mum stood behind the counter, a warm smile stretched across her face, gently tilting her head up and down. Wrinkles appear on her soft and saggy cheeks under her warm brown eyes, so small that you could only see her pupils. Having to raise three kids alone, amidst all the war that has led them to another place to call home, was sure not very easy.
Behind every one of those long creases and tiny folds encompassing her face, loose and tight, lies at least one reminiscence of love, empathy and hard work. Others may say that wrinkles are ugly and symbolise old age, but with age also comes wisdom and experience. Anyhow, no matter how many of those “hate” ‘comments Stacey hears, she will always hold a special place in her heart for her mum.
Everything that her mum did and was doing took a lot of strength. It wasn’t something that everyone could just do. Though, Stacey only ever saw her mum at night during the weekdays, or between her three shifts that she does every single day to keep their roof strong and their food hot. And while she was glad to have a mum like hers, Stacey never really knew how to show her love. Whether it be doing the chores while her mum is gone or looking after her two younger brothers (at least trying her best to), she still felt the tension like a tight string pulling at her heart. She never thought that she was enough to her mum. She always pictures her as the hero, pulling the rest of them away from the treacherous war, figuring out a way to safety, let alone finding a profitable job, and feeding three hungry kids and making sure that they get education. Stacey let out a long sigh and hurried over to the oven.
The brownies were baking away, orange and hot, emitting their delightful scent across the kitchen, like a contagious spell. The heat coming from the oven came straight at her face. It was warm and welcoming. Suddenly, anger crossed Stacey’s mind. She felt bad. Bad for her mother who had to do everything for her and her brothers. Stacey’s heartbeat pulsed loudly in her head, and a tear dared to come out from the corner of her eye, flowing into her mouth. The taste was tangy. She rushed over to where her mum was and spread her arms wide for a hug.
She cried and shouted, “Whatever is going to happen, we’re always going to be here, okay?” Tears drowned her face on her mother’s shoulder and just like that, Stacey felt safe.