Ms Rotondwa Mudau
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Stories (19)
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THE THIN BLANKET AND THE UNFINESHED CHILDHOOD
They called me a troublesome child long before I knew what trouble meant. I learned to wear that name like a coat that didn’t fit heavy, scratchy, and impossible to take off. I lost my mother when I was still small enough to fit on her lap, and overnight the world rearranged itself around the hole she left. For one week I was a princess: everyone fussed, fed me, smiled at me as if I was the soft center of their grief. Then the luck ran out and the real story began.
By Ms Rotondwa Mudau5 months ago in Blush
DEAR HEAVEN I MISS MY MOM
Dear Heaven, Can you hear me? I am writing to you with trembling hands, a heart too heavy for my chest, and eyes burning with tears that never seem to stop. I miss my mom. Every second, every moment, every breath I take without her feels like a punishment I don’t understand. They say time heals all wounds, but whoever said that must not have lost their mother. Whoever said that must not have lived with this hole inside them this endless silence where laughter used to be.
By Ms Rotondwa Mudau5 months ago in 01
THE LIONESS GRIEF
There are some things in life that no one prepares you for. You can read every book on grief, listen to every sermon, even have people who love you surround you with prayers and comfort but when it happens to you, when death comes close enough to steal someone you love, the world stops making sense.
By Ms Rotondwa Mudau5 months ago in Confessions
THE BABY I NEVER GOT TO HOLD
I remember the moment I found out I was pregnant. My hands were shaking, heart pounding so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts. In that tiny bathroom, holding a stick that would change everything, I felt a strange mix of fear and joy. I whispered, “I’m going to be a mom.” And for a short while, that whisper became a promise.
By Ms Rotondwa Mudau6 months ago in Confessions
I THOUGHT I FOUND LOVE; BUT I WAS SOMEONE'S HEALING STATION
The kind of love that makes you forget the nights you cried alone. The kind that feels like a warm blanket after years of sleeping in the cold. The kind you wait for after surviving storms, heartbreaks, betrayals, and disappointments. I thought he was it.
By Ms Rotondwa Mudau7 months ago in Confessions
WHEN HEALING BECOMES HEAVY; IM TIRED OF BEING THE STRONG ONE
I don’t remember the first time I was told I had to be strong. Maybe it was the day I wiped my own tears in silence because no one had the time to notice them. Maybe it was when I stood by the kitchen door watching my mother cry, and I knew, somehow, I wasn’t allowed to cry too.
By Ms Rotondwa Mudau7 months ago in Motivation
HE WAITED WHILE I HEALED
I wasn’t looking for love when I met him. In fact, I was still at war with the idea of being loved at all. Four years ago, I was just trying to breathe through the days broken, guarded, holding my wounds together with a fake smile and tired prayers. Healing wasn’t soft; it wasn’t peaceful. It was loud, lonely, confusing, and filled with days I didn’t know how I survived.
By Ms Rotondwa Mudau7 months ago in Fiction
