Little Life Stories

Those little life stories, which developed because of Sunday brunches.

Being thrown left to right, you should have known, better.

Typical Sunday afternoon for everyday people, not you seated at the center of it all.

Traffic, a norm for such days, cars rushing out of churches to get a spot at the mall!

Not you, who unhurriedly made your way to the one place to clear your mind.

A chilled out family had your spot, quite the view, as you stare in daze.

Life doesn’t give you options, when it comes to lemons, in this case it handed you a mid-restaurant table.

To feed your eyes! To enrich your ears!

Struggling to remember a time of childhood, when happiness and laughter went hand in hand.

Contemplating on why it didn’t occur, the humbling fact of always being on the move.

One town to the next, loving the idea of travel, hating the very subtle reminder of changing houses.

A home was a far-fetched ideology to you,

Until that far, words of home is where the heart is, was just but a concept.

In spice due to never your heart never having a place among the houses!

A stranger,

An orphan,

The adopted child,

Only but a few pet names you grew accustomed to.

Ordinarily, they grew accustomed to you,

Pushing out a deep sense of saddened smile each time you were called out.

Fairness was lurking somewhere, behind closed windows, doors,

Underneath a heap of ragged partially-torn pairs of stained, white sheets,

If only it was but a faint image of the home, white was to represent peace and purity.

As you grew older you became familiarized with what white actually meant.

A symbolic mixture of a color without an origin, mixture of all the others!

A mixture of preparing breakfast, washing dirt-sated clothes, mending them in the process,

All for just a roof over your head, for the days you got lucky, a well reasonable price to pay!

Temporarily taking a break from your distorted thoughts, to give the usual order,

Stealing a small glance at the delighted family on the spot!

In fear of rejection, being sympathized with, sending you to dejection, no one knew.

It was safe, to live a lie of that we had good and bad days memento of your childhood,

Relative definition of a good childhood made it less of a lie, there were good days.

Days you mistakenly found a piece of chocolate chip cookie on the floor, cleaning the house.

Days you were granted permission to sleep on a 2-inch 2by2 dog mat.

It was warm, comfortable and a blessing, if combined with your white sheets.

Not to forget that too was a privilege to be given every now and then.

Suppose they did it for the church and community, perhaps to be looked upon.

There were bad days nonetheless, days you ran out silently screaming, in tears,

There were days you laid on the cold bathtub, to keep it warm they said, for their morning baths.

There were days when wounds became scars, only to be refreshed in the morning for having a sip,

A sip of warm tea to fill your stomach for the reminder of the day,

Due to the amazing reason that not everyone was out of the house yet!

Amazing, there were those as well, amazing days that you took moments,

To read leftover newspapers when their children, a boy and two girls, went to school,

To teach yourself on the importance of seeing the world through them!

They taught you well, to fend and grow stronger!

To be efficient in solitary confinement, effective in dejected state of affairs,

Silence is broken in your thoughts as a child cries a reminder no doubt.

Of the unheard cries you let out late into the night, speaking to a universe that never spoke back.

Yours eyes shift glaze to the entrance, the universe did take its time to talk back,

Peaceful walking towards your new found spot; these were the amazing days still,

She was the one, who offered her undying assistance!

To get you out and into a program, for the unfortunate, where you fortunately made something!

Her warm renaissance smile was accompanied with a brushed kiss on the cheek.

Signaling her to have a seat on the wooden well-designed and polished chair,

But men just pause!

Amidst the breaks of your thoughts, you didn’t actually believe that this was their youngest daughter!

So today it’s about your little life stories, the ones you are beginning to share!




About menjustpause

Your Averagely Depressed Guy

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