Black Ribbons by Yuliia Krasii

Wearing ribbons in our hair at major events was

an unspoken rule of our family. White for birthdays and weddings, black for funerals. 

Mother, in her long black dress, didn’t look at my face in the mirror. She focused solemnly on my messy hair, trying to style a black ribbon in it. Her black ribbon was made of velvet, soft and pleasant to touch, yet the look of it reminded her that something terrible had happened. 

Mine ribbon was silk, so whenever mother tried to tie my hair with it, the ribbon slipped. Mother sighed and tried again, never looking at me. 

After countless tries to deal with my hairstyle, my back began to hurt. Sitting still was a hard task for me, especially in times like that. I tried to move slightly, and the ribbon slipped once again. 

“Maya! Don’t move,” she commanded. Her voice sounded rusty and broken. 

“Maybe I could put it around my neck?” I looked at her face in the mirror, not receiving the look back. All these struggles with ribbon started to provoke irritation in me. My hands got itchy, and my legs felt paralysed. 

“Don’t be stupid! You know she liked them specifically in hair,” she cut it out and continued trying. 

Yes, she did like them like that. I remember the first time she wore ribbons in her hair to our mother’s birthday. 

“Maya, come have a look!” Nancy shouted, her voice cheerful and excited. 

“What is it?” I came in and saw her in a white dress with little pink flowers and her hair, her hair laced with many white ribbons. 

“What do you think?” I felt how she buzzed with happiness, smiling and almost laughing. 

I couldn’t come up with any words to describe her beauty. Probably, from the lost look on my face, Nancy understood everything she needed. 

“Come in, let me put some ribbons in your hair too,” this soft voice and sincere smile melted me in a second. 

“Alright, Nancy. You know, I can’t say no to you,” I sat down and let her do whatever she wanted. 

Her touch was tender yet precise when she braided my hair, adding white silk ribbons. 

“Now my dearest sister is the most beautiful girl in the whole world!” she exclaimed after finishing my hairstyle. I looked great, but Nancy looked breathtaking. 

“You know it’s a lie,” I couldn't help but smile looking at her. 

I felt my eyes filling with tears. I looked at my mother again, this time finally seeing her staring at me. She was crying too, holding a black ribbon in her hand, a painful reminder of Nancy. 

“ I look at you and see her,” She moved her hands to her face, shaking from crying, “I’m sorry, Maya”. 

“I know, Mom,” I stood up and hugged her tightly, “I see her too”. 

After minutes of standing in silence, hugging each other, I had enough bravery to keep going with the ribbon. 

“Please, Mom, Nancy would have loved to see me in ribbons if she could.” 

And when Mother was finally done with my hairstyle, we went out, hand in hand, to say the last goodbye to Nancy.