PINK ribbons fluttering in the wind, coming closer and closer then drifting away, lost in the horizon.
Brandon sat up in bed, awoken from his sleep again by the strange dream. He sighed, got up and, sliding open the glass doors on the upper balcony of his home, he stepped out and sighed again.
At the beginning when the dreams began, he did not put any thought to it; that it may have some kind of meaning, for, in his view, dreams were just unending series of thoughts and images occurring in a person’s mind.
But now he began to wonder.
“Why am I having this recurring dream of pink ribbons in the sky?”
He tried to think of something that may have connected him at some time, somewhere to the ribbons but found nothing. The one odd thing about the dream, he now recognised, was that it only happened when he was home, not on travels.
Brandon was a successful cricketer, a recognised Number Three batsman for the West Indies team, so he was more overseas than at home in Guyana.
“It means,” he surmised, “The dream has to do with something or someone here.”
He was on a break from cricket, but his daily schedule was so hectic, the dream was pushed to the back of his mind until he saw the little girl.
He had visited Leonora Primary School on the West Coast of Demerara to donate some cricket gear when he noticed a pretty little girl sitting quietly in a corner of the classroom. She had long hair, tied with ribbons and was shy and soft-spoken. It was at that moment that the meaning of the dream hit him. The pink ribbon was an image from childhood that had been repressed in his mind.
“I had a friend!” he exclaimed to himself, “A little girl like her.”
At home alone, with time to think, memories of her flashed in his mind, touching something in his heart. He had seen her for the first time, almost 12 years ago, when he had gone to spend some time with his aunt in the countryside. The house next door was hidden by thick hedges and tall trees with huge sprawling limbs that gave the place a dark, mysterious look. His aunt forbade him not to go close but Brandon, the curious young boy he was, wanted to know what was hidden behind the thick hedges. He managed to cut a little opening but could see just a little part of the yard and as he watched a pit bull came into view.
“Darn!” Brandon exclaimed quietly, pulling back.
A few days passed and Brandon did not peep through the small opening again, though he was still curious. Then early one morning, he was awoken by a soft, sweet voice singing. It was coming from the house next door and scrambling out of bed, he ran downstairs to the hedge and cautiously uncovered the opening he had made, but he saw no one.
The voice was coming closer, then she came into view, walking barefoot in the dewy grass, her long hair tied loosely with a pink ribbon, a small basket filled with flowers on her arm. Her simple beauty sent a warm filing in his young heart but what actually touched him was the sad tinge in her voice.
The story in the neighbourhood was that the young girl was being held captive with her mother in that house by her tyrant step-father. Brandon knew that if there was anyone who needed a friend, it was her and he had wondered how to get her attention. Then one day, whilst watching cricket, he realised he could hit a ball like a six over the hedge when she was in the garden. So he had bought a pack of flannel balls and taped a note on the ball that said, “Hi, my name is Brandon.”
He had waited early the next morning when he heard her singing and he took an average of the shot and hit the ball over the hedge. He heard the dog barking, then there was silence.
The next morning as he was thinking whether he should hit another ball over with a note when he saw a pink ribbon, stuck in a corner of the hedge. He took it down and written in neat, small letters were the words,
“Hi, I’m Deepika.”
“Yes!” Brandon expressed in delight, and that was how they began communicating.
Day after day through the opening in the hedge he had become her friend, a warm friendship that had brought a smile to her lips and a light in her soft brown eyes. But regrettably, the time had come for him to leave and on that day he did not see her but stuck on the hedge was another pink ribbon and she had written:
“Thank you for being my friend.”
He had kept the ribbon, hoping one say to see her again but as the years passed and his cricketing career took off, he became famous and rich. The ribbon got lost somewhere and the little girl he had befriended faded from his mind.
Brandon sighed deeply and shook his head, “I left and never returned,” he said with deep regrets, “How could I have forgotten her?”
He knew he had to find her. He travelled to her village in the countryside of West Coast Berbice but when he reached there, his hopes were shattered, for she was not there anymore.
His aunt told him they had left, mother and daughter, eight years ago to get away from her brutish stepfather and no one had ever seen them again. Brandon stared at the hedge, not sure now what to do when his aunt handed him a folded pink ribbon.
“She left this and asked me to give it to you if you ever came back to look for her.”
He unfolded the ribbon slowly and written on it were two words, “Find me.”
Eight years ago, she had left that note and he wondered if life had been harsher for her.
He folded the ribbon neatly and put it in his pocket, a promise in his mind.
“I will find you, my friend.”
He was not sure though, where to start in a country of 10 regions, no forwarding address nor any family connection to mother or daughter, and most importantly, how would he recognize her from twelve years ago when he had first seen her?
For days he tried visualising what she would look like now, as a young woman drawing sketches after sketches, for sketching had been one of his hobbies since at school. Finally, he got something that he felt could give him an idea about who to look for. He travelled all the regions on the coast but could not find her. Days matured into weeks and a measure of desperation crept into his mind then one night, he saw in another dream, native children sitting under a huge tree listening with rapt attention to their teacher, whose face he could not see. Then one child raised her hands and said, “Miss Deepika.”
Brandon snapped out of his dream and sat up so suddenly he almost fell off the bed.
“Yes, of course,” he said excited, “She had said she wanted to be a teacher. Thank you, Lord!”
Now, the task was finding which region in the interior and that was where his Amerindian friend Antonio came in. Brandon sketched the picture he saw in his dream and Antonio immediately recognized the place.
It was in Region Eight.
The next morning, he travelled by land to the Hinterland region and arrived at nightfall. The anticipation of seeing her after all these years tied knots in his stomach and the night seemed so long.
In the morning he travelled from the guest house to the village and he saw the same scene. She was sitting in a chair under a huge tree, her hair wrapped at the nape of her neck, reading to the children. He did not see her face but he knew in his heart, it was her.
“Deepika,” he called her name quietly.
She stopped reading, turned around and rose from her chair. He felt the rush of overwhelming, relief and joy as he looked at her. Her living image wasn’t far from the one he had sketched.
She was so beautiful!
She looked at him, uncertainly, for the years and changed him from boyhood to manhood.
“Do I know you?” She asked in a soft, pleasant voice.
He took the ribbon from his pocket and held it up saying,
“I got your message.”
She gasped and dropped the book.
“Brandon.”
“I’m sorry I took so long to find you,” he said, voice almost breaking.
“After all this time,” she said through tears, a little tremor in her voice. “I thought I would never see you again.”
“It’s God’s work,” he said, wiping her tears, “And now I have found you, I want to have you and our friendship in my life forever.”
She smiled and he hugged her in a soft embrace.
A bond tied by a pink ribbon.

Taken from: https://www.prettydesigns.com/12-pretty-hairstyles-ribbons/

Taken from: https://www.chasebuchanan.london/property-details/29846493/middlesex/teddington/bushy-park-road

2