Bookmark #946

At fifteen past eleven, I lay on this couch watching a rather heartwarming film, and the light from the TV continues to cast its ever-moving interplay of shadows all over the beige tiles. And it occurs to me all of a sudden in this moment of quiet respite that my exhaustion has had me frazzled, and it is not merely exhaustion from the days I have lived through these past few weeks but the exhaustion of being let down more often than not. Soft piano starts to play as the credits roll, and I get out of the couch and stare out at the tree from the kitchen window. The tree has been moving rabidly since the last two evenings, and each time I hear the rustling leaves or the whistling wind, a part of me hopes for rain. Perhaps this state of dejectedness is because of the weather, that the temperature has been stuck on the highest of highs like a broken thermometer. And to lose this thought, I stare at the tree for a bit more, and a gust blows about and waltzes inside, and I feel invigorated for a little bit.

The credits from the film continue to roll. I open the fridge door, the light from which spreads further, casting a larger shadow as if trying to compete with the light from the television in some sort of juvenile game between children. At least, that is what I think of suddenly as I take a bottle of cold water out and take a large sip. And then, I remember a memory from childhood of inane competitions between brothers, at first, and then, more come gushing in, between cousins, between friends at school, and suddenly, I cannot help but stand there smiling. And then, my mother’s voice echoes in my mind as she asks me to close the door to the fridge, and to refill the bottle before putting it back in. So much of this life is lived right because so much of it is continually informed by things I do not even remember. And I want to end this day on this note: that I have stood on the shoulders of others all my life.

I do the needful with the fridge and the bottle as I was taught, and then I turn the television off, glance at the apartment door to see if it is locked, and shut the bedroom door behind me, calling it a night.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here