Self Reflections
It’s been a month of working from home and being adjusted to the new schedule of waking up early. No, wait! It’s not as wonderful and relaxing as it sounds, stopping the Nth alarm I have set for waking up.
Work mornings are crazy with markets going volatile and choppy but after an hour or two things settle in. Today, I try setting the desk on my lawn as the November sun peeps through the trees, birds hum to a song I long knew, and the winter runs a chill through my bones. I look around my yard, it’s long lost glory, old plants substituted by new.
The bogunvilia which I had memories with while playing hide and seek, has long died replaced by a bloom which bloosms only during the winter months, shed leaves in early autumn and greens in spring. This year, has been harsh with high intensified rains and schorching sun the twenty year old Siuli tree lost all it’s fragnance of soothing my soul while I would take my evening walks. Some plants were replaced by my Mali with easier mainataince ones. Just like some old bonds replaced by newer ones, easier to strike off without much fuss and efforts.
I go around try searching my reflections in the pictures which were clicked me beside my favorite toy, the dog I petted and loved with all my heart, the watchman’s son whom I befriended aged three, the cacaphony and the giggles I shared with my childhood friends aged nine. It seems to have withered away like an old spring — only the memories lingers.
Sun been playing peek-a-boo while I try checking on the futures opening, I notice a kingfisher right on the edge of my gate lamp- looking up, ahead with a lot of inhibition — careful yet cautious , willing to fly on a distant land where it too can find solace and sing a song to it’s beloved.
Reality strikes — I need to get through some calls, after what feels like a good twenty minutes, the bird is nowhere to be seen, long lost in search to sing a song of solace to it’s beloved.
My reflections in the mirror are tired, much need of some sleep — I wonder where are those grins, naive innocent years of mine gone. Maybe, too busy in humming through the hustles of mundanity.
