1
THE BURNING SWAN
I have always felt that fairytale love stories are the deluded nonsense
of a fanciful brain. Like in romance movies, where a man walks down
the street, turns a corner and sees the girl of his dreams. Or a lady
bumps into the love of her life while in a hurry and the only solution is
abundant and unambiguous true love. In the first magical moments they
sense that something truly incredible is about to happen. Their eyes
twinkle, their stomachs leap and fireworks of emotion explode over the
landscape of their lives. But in reality, these kinds of love stories are
just fictional tales, and I do not believe they exist. I know some people
claim to have experienced fairytale love stories and lived happily ever
after, like the movie couples strolling into the sunset. Perhaps these
people are born lucky. My mother is one of these people. I have heard
my mother tell the story of how she met my father hundreds, nay
thousands, of times, over and over until it has become woven into the
fabric of my brain and etched onto the inside of my skull. Every family
event is a chance for my mother to refresh our memories, and she
always takes this chance. I know every word of the story, every tiny
detail, about the one incredible, almost unbelievable event that
changed their lives forever.
Growing up, I would always ask my friends about their parents’ love
stories. I needed to know if theirs could compete with my parents’
epic tale of romance. As much as I do not believe in fairy-tales, it was
always intriguing. I hurled questions at my friends in school and
sometimes at visitors to our home.
“How did your parents meet? How did you meet?” They were
surprising questions coming from a small but completely adorable child.
It was never a competition, but if it had been a competition, my
parents would have won the competition, every time.
Although my mother would not admit it, she was always keen to
hear what they had to say and when they left, she would giggle and