Heaven beneath her feet

During my early childhood days, I was diagnosed with pneumonia. The battle was tough. Mamma would lead from the forefront. My predicament won’t let her blink her eyes; I had pneumonia and she would lose her sleep over her. The food was bland but it was her aura which turned it scrumptious. The 4 AM medicine won’t work, unless her prayers allowed to. My father would ask her why she can’t rest and she would reply, “How could my eyes find peace when the apple of my eye isn’t at ease.” Those sleepless nights made me witness how she held my body for 9 months and my soul for eternity. On healing, I realised: the pneumonia was a shade of hell for me, and my mother’s faith— a drop from the river of heaven.