a few hours ago, I thought it was just going to be another lazy sunday morning. Perhaps, I had thought, it was even going to be an exceptionally beautiful one. The soft sunlight, sifted by the curtains by the window, spilling across my room; the mild chirping of birds on that old majestic tree near my window; the gentle whirring of vehicles that drove past one after another on that little side road in front of my block...
But then, the morning, seeming, peace snapped in two like a weary, crumbly twig..
Have you ever felt as if something was gnawing at you from your insides?? Eating away at your spirit; debilitating you, stealing away your drive and energy gradually like some pernicious pestilence from within?? Sometimes, I feel that way.. and whenever I do, I really really miss my late father. I was never close to him actually; In fact, we were probably alienated from each other... Yet, for all the great divide between us, I respected him alot. He was a compassionate man. Patient and gregarious. Forgiving. Generous. He possessed traits which I should, and am trying my best to, emulate. But I am afraid... and at times like these, when the very ideals which I shape my life by are shaken, I wish he were here with me. Wishing... wishing... And I am that small kid again, lying beside him on his bed, listening to him snoring and listening, to the sounds of the night passing...
It could have been a beautiful morning.
