IF ONLY THEY KNEW WHY SHE ALWAYS BACKS HER BABY ON HER HEAD

If ONLY They KNEW Why She ALWAYS BACKS Her Baby ON HER HE@D  

      Episode 3✅

The next morning, Grace walked to the stream.

She sat on the same rock she used to sit on before everything changed.

Then, she whispered into the wind, “I want to see him again.”

Nothing happened.

She tried again, louder this time. “The man with white eyes. If you can hear me... please. I need to talk to you!”

The trees rustled. The wind picked up.

Then, slowly, from behind the biggest tree, he came.

Old. Barefoot. Eyes white like chalk. A smile that didn’t quite touch his lips.

“You kept the child,” he said, like he’d just seen her yesterday.

Grace stood up quickly. “He’s almost six.”

The old man nodded. “I know.”

“I just... I wanted to ask... am I doing it right?”

“You are,” he said. “But the spirit of sorrow is clever. It will try to break you in other ways.”

Grace looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“You have kept him alive... but have you kept yourself alive?”

She blinked. “I don’t understand.”

The old man pointed at her chest. “Your heart. It’s full of fear. Fear feeds sorrow.”

Grace’s eyes filled with tears. “But I’m doing all I can.”

“You must also have joy. Dance again. Sing. Let him see your smile. That is how you kill sorrow completely.”

Grace wiped her eyes. “Can I ask one more thing?”

He nodded.

“What happens when he turns ten? Can I untie him?”

The old man stared at her for a long moment.

“Only if you believe. Because belief is the true cloth that holds him.”

Grace returned home changed.

She started laughing more with Joel. She let him touch her face and tell her silly stories. She danced when he sang. She played games in the sand.

Even the neighbors noticed.

“Grace is smiling now,” they whispered.

“Maybe her madness is going away.”

But Grace didn’t care anymore.

She was building joy — brick by brick.

One afternoon, as she was fetching water, a woman approached her with a baby on her back.

“Grace,” the woman said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

Grace nodded.

The woman’s voice trembled. “This is my fourth child. The other three... died like yours.”

Grace’s heart squeezed. She looked at the baby — sleeping peacefully.

“I used to laugh at you,” the woman said. “But now... now I understand.”

Grace gently reached out and touched the woman’s hand. “You’re not alone.”

“Would you take me to the man with the white eyes?”

Grace thought for a moment, then said, “He only comes when you truly want to see him. And when your heart is ready to listen.”

The woman nodded slowly, tears running down her cheeks.

Joel was seven now.

He loved to run — even on your head.

He asked questions. So many questions.

“Mama, why do people whisper when we pass?”

“Mama, why do I sleep differently?”

“Mama, am I strange?”

Grace would smile and say, “No, Joel. You’re not strange. You’re special.”

“But why don’t the other kids hang like me?”

She knelt down one day and held his face.

“Because their mothers didn’t fight the same war I fought. You are the only one who lived. And I will do anything to keep it that way.”

Joel blinked. “Even if people laugh?”

“Yes,” she said. “Even if the whole world laughs.”

But not everyone thought her sacrifice was brave.

One day, three women came to their house with a small boy.

“This is my son, Arinze,” one woman said. “He says your Joel is scaring the other children.”

Grace stood at the door, Joel peeking from behind her.

“He said Joel is a ghost-child,” the woman added.

Grace’s heart burned. “My son is not a ghost.”

“Then carry him like a normal child!” another woman snapped. “You’re filling their heads with nonsense!”

Grace stepped forward. “I will carry him how I choose. And if your children don’t understand, teach them kindness.”

The women left, angry.

Joel hugged her from behind. “You don’t have to fight them, Mama.”

Grace smiled. “I’m not fighting them. I’m protecting you.”

That night, Joel asked, “Will I always be on your head?”

Grace kissed his forehead. “Not forever.”

“When?”

“When you turn ten.”

Joel grinned. “That’s soon!”

Grace smiled back. “Yes. It is.”

But inside, fear whispered again.

What if the curse wasn’t broken?

What if he touched the ground and died?

What if the old man was wrong?

She looked at James. “Do you believe we’ll make it?”

James held her hand. “You already have.”

Three more years.

Three more winters and rains.

Three more birthdays.

Each one felt like a miracle.

The cloth began to wear thin. Grace patched it with care, every thread like a prayer.

Joel never once complained.

“Ten is coming,” he would whisper sometimes. “Are you ready, Mama?”

Grace would nod.

But she wasn’t.

Because love like this comes with fear.

And fear, if you’re not careful, becomes a voice louder than truth.

But Grace remembered the old man’s words:

“Belief is the true cloth that holds him.”

So, she began to speak it out loud every day.

“You will live, Joel.”

“You will not die.”

“You are not cursed.”

“You are a story... that the world thought was impossible.”

Joel was now nine.

Almost ten.

His voice was deeper. His legs were longer. His questions were harder.

“Mama,” he said one morning as she strapped him in the red cloth again, “will you still love me if I walk on the ground?”

Grace paused.

She touched his face gently. “Joel, I will love you even if you float in the sky.”

He giggled. “That would be fun.”

“But when your feet finally touch the ground,” she added, “I will love you the most. Because that day… you will be free.”

But the village wasn’t free yet.

At the well, women still whispered.

“That boy is now too big to be on your head.”

“It’s dangerous. Look at his legs — he’ll grow crooked.”

“Grace just wants attention.”

Grace heard them all. But she didn’t flinch.

She carried Joel with pride, like a queen carrying her crown.

At school, it was harder.

Joel didn’t go to regular school. James taught him at home.

But one day, Joel begged, “I want to go to class, Mama. With other kids.”

Grace’s heart clenched. “But… they may not understand.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I want to make friends.”

James agreed. “We’ll talk to the principal.”

TBC..

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