Let me tell you a story about a boy
Who shares the love for cats and poetry
Who sees religion as philosophy
Who hides his soft spot behind a fort

I’ve been trying for a while
to put into words
The hesitation
The fear
The restlessness
over distant answers
The warm and fuzzy
over good mornings and pet names
The long pause and giggles
over 2 hours calls that felt like a moment
The out of nowhere grin
Seeing you hiding a sneaky smile
In a secret memory hidden in the back of my eyelids

I grow up seeing love as admiration
And relationship as confinement
Mutual feelings as something unknown
But you
I’ve spent months trying to figure you
What language does your heart speak?
In sneaking short messages in a packed day
to say you’re okay?
In trying to carry the burden of everyone’s feelings
as your own?
In all the efforts of setting people free
to say you’re fine with being alone?

My dear, why are you so ready to let me be “the one who got away”, when I’m still here?

Lately I’ve started to rely on prayers
And little by little I see
that patience should win over hastiness
that hustling and bustling is not the way to grow feelings
that giving space is as important as maintaining the pace
that kindness in whatever forms it would be,
would still bring warmth to the entire being
and that time is sometimes what’s needed
for a wall to crumble

I was born from the belly of a worrier
Who inherits a spine from a mighty savior
Trading her life for her chubby little warrior

I was brought up by a pair of dreamers
Who see the world as layers of wonders
As they confront their fears with prayers

With tottery steps I paced the ground
Granting my limbs with little fresh wounds
A hundred rough steps before I pound

With open eyes and attentive mind
Spellbound by sights and whispery vines
I learn to read between the lines

We were born with a notion that time is limited and yet we spend each day waiting for things to be over.

When you talk to someone,
Do you study the color of their eyes?
Do you hear the softness of their voice? Or the tension?

Do you notice how sometimes their voice falter when telling you something important?
The way their eyes shy away from yours?

Do you feel it when your nerve endings react to their warmth as their skin touches yours?
Do you notice that sometimes their story lays beyond what’s provided to the ears?

Do you realize that everytime you part, it could be your last?
Have you told them everything that you wanted to say?

When you lay in bed every night,
Do you count your breathing? The way the air fills up before it leaves your lungs?

Do you feel it as your muscles let go of every tension that they have been bearing the whole day?

And when your mind wanders to that one peaceful morning, back when days were slow and your only worry was whether you’ll make friends on the first day of school–do you go with it?

As you slowly loosen your grip on reality, and let the conciousness leave you, do you notice that you’re relying on the universe to pull you out so that you’ll open your eyes again tomorrow?

So what did you take for granted today?

Home begins with a daily race
Between my alarm’s fourth ring and the rooster’s crows
Yet none beats dad’s record of his 4.30 am endless knocks — every single day

Home giggles at the attempts
To check the fridge
To hop on the weight scales
To look for the tv remote
To check the fridge (again)

Home rubs its chest
During heated conversations
Over a very loud dinner
Barely about anything new

Home dozes off
On slow evenings
After too many chicken wings
And half-watched movies

Home gets goose bumps
Over dad’s startling “I’m hooome”
Over my past-curfew tip-toes
Over mom’s “have you done that thing I asked you yesterday?”

Home reminisces sibling banters
over who’s behind the wheel
over who picks the road songs
over who gets the last slice of pizza

Home recovers
After a very long day
Seeking refuge under mom’s blanket
Looking for a secret passage back into her womb

Home demands as much as it forgives
Home worries as much as it loves
But most importantly, home gives more than it receives

The bell rang as my lift to work arrived.
I slipped into the back seat, so ready to go, while my phone vibrated to a message from mom, “Granny just got admitted to the hospital. She fell unconscious during lunch. She’s stable now, but do come over if you’re free, she may not have much time left.”
I took a breather. Heading over there right away seemed to be the wisest thing to do. Couldn’t believe I needed a full minute just to make that decision.

The road was a bit packed which gave me time to reminisce my days back in first grade. Granny was quite a dominant figure. Perfect in everything she does. She was the centre of the family and everybody else gravitated around her. The things I learned from my obligatory weekend visits, were to behave and to choose my words carefully while talking to the elders. I have learned how to read the air in the room even before I mastered the ABC. It was alright. Though I wish I could have more love for her, before fear won it over. Looking back now, I feel like everyone else in the family owed it to her to have taught us, the grandchildren, better perspectives. The first thing we see in her should be strength, not hegemony.

As the taxi dropped me off into the lobby, I took another deep breath before I made my way up to her room. There she was, lying on the bed with respiratory support. Her eyes lighted up instantly watching me walk into the room. I held her hand asking if she was OK. She let out a slight nod as her lips curved into a smile. I could sense how vulnerable she was, to the point it was difficult for her to even speak. Glad I managed to read it in her eyes, the “thank you”, the “I’m very glad to see you”, the “you have grown to be a better person than I ever wished you to be”. I have finally come to realize, that look in her eyes was the perfect closure for both of us.

This piece is part of a #30DaysWritingChallenge in which today’s prompt was:

Day 3:

Now send your character to his or her grumpy grandmother’s house for a visit. Write the scene of your character’s arrival.

I encourage anyone who swings by to give constructive feedbacks on the comments section. I welcome all your thoughts with open hands with a wish to further improve my writings.

It was 05.00, when her partner shook her shoulder, muttering, “I feel sorry for the alarm assigned to you. It’s basically talking to a brick wall. What a sleepy head. At least push the snooze button. People are trying to sleep!” He desperately reached her phone with an attempt to kill the alarm but it’s coded. The fourth time the alarm rang, he’s already on migration to the guest bedroom, saving himself from doing a fool’s errand.

She finally woke up to an empty bed. Her alarm had rung for the fifth time at 05.30 after every 15 minutes before it. She drank her first glass of water for the day then slipped into her slippers and robe before entering the bathroom for a quick shower. She gently dried her medium wavy hair while brushing it gently. Today’s an all black day. She wanted to look sharp for an important meeting. A satin black blazer with a bit of flower accent and a pair of black cullotes are the perfect combination to boost up her confidence. A set of routine she’s been doing religiously for the past 4 years.

Bullet points ready, she looks forward to face today, head-on.

This piece is part of a #30DaysWritingChallenge in which today’s prompt was:

Day 2:

Think of three people in your life. Give your character the hair and laugh of person 1, the face and bedroom of person 2, and the wardrobe and mannerisms of person 3. This is your new protagonist. Feel free to give him or her any other characteristics you’d like. Give us an idea of who your character is by describing only the first 60 seconds of the character’s day.

I encourage anyone who swings by to give constructive feedbacks on the comments section. I welcome all your thoughts with open hands with a wish to further improve my writings.

This morning mama told me this marks the twenty-fifth time the sun rose since the night I was born. She didn’t expect me to live this long, considering I slipped out right after she thought what’s left in her belly was undigested food. I mean who could blame her? She pushed 6 new borns out her birthing hole earlier that night–to the point I slid out swiftly with no need for an extra push. The more reason is because while milking, my siblings always fill up mama’s top shelf which leaves me only lower ones–risking my head to be stomped on all the time. Ah, the things I do to stay alive.

This marks the fifth time I did this solitary walk–after what feels like forever learning to move my feet forward. Most of my siblings have only fully mastered the art two sunsets ago. Earlier today, they couldn’t even walk twenty wobbly steps without falling down. I’m quite proud to be the quickest learner among the bunch. Who’s laughing now, huh, greedy head stompers?

What I have learned during these walks is that we are living alongside so many creatures in this world. Comes with different shapes and sizes too. Weirdest one yet though, this one creature I found–prefers to stand up only on their two hind legs. Despite the fact that, like us, they were blessed with four. Weirdly enough, their forelegs have these weird elongated paws. Mama called them ‘fingers’. They use them to do weird stuff like picking up or holding things. My thoughts exactly! They don’t use their teeth and mouths enough to carry things around. They seem to enjoy leading an impractical life. Maybe their grandparents forgot to teach them that four legs are faster than two.

‘Humans’. At least that’s what Mama calls them.

Whoopsie. It’s that human again. Doing another strange thing like splashing water on their wheeled roof. Oh yes forgot to mention about the wheeled roof. These things are like caves that block sun rays during the day. Under it, is a very nice place to nap. Sometimes a few moments after dawn, some of them are moved out of their cages–they would roll their wheels around for a bit in the middle of the road before disappearing in the distance–only to re-appear after it gets dark. That’s when humans move them inside their cages again. I’m suspicious–it seems that these things only moves when a human is inside. Maybe humans have the power to move it around? I’m not sure because it does not explain why it often runs sightlessly–almost cost one of my siblings his life that one time. Good thing He blesses us with nine lives.

I still don’t understand why humans like to splash water on things and on themselves. I mean, water is definitely dangerous. Especially when it blocks your nose–the most important part of the body yet. When I asked Mama, she said, for humans, it’s the same as us using our tongue for baths. I mean. Why? What a waste of tongue!

Ah, I got lost in thoughts, finally arrived at my most favourite human cage, where this white-haired human lives. She always comes out during this time to spend time in the sun and always gives me a pat on the forehead. She’s pretty cool. She moves around using this impressive tool–like a miniature of the wheeled roof–where she sits on top. She always pats her lap hinting me to jump on. Of course, I would! Another perfect place to nap–better–compared to the rough cement. As if that isn’t joyful enough, she would run her wasted front leg up my head then down my back repeatedly until I fell asleep. Wise choice, human. Finally, putting it to a good use.

Mama said there will come a time when she would stop feeding us and we should be able to hunt by ourselves. When that time comes I think I’ll just stay with this human and demand unlimited head strokes day and night.

This piece is part of a #30DaysWritingChallenge in which today’s prompt was:

Day 1:

“Take us through a written walk down your street and to your favorite place through the eyes of somebody else.”

I encourage anyone who swings by to give constructive feedbacks on the comments section. I welcome all your thoughts with open hands with a wish to further improve my writings.