When i was a 5-year-old




I was gently woken up by a father who fed me a glass of milk in my sleep everyday because i wouldn't drink it if i was awake...

I was put back to sleep but sometimes i would just snuggle up to him after my lactose dose and he would patiently hold me till i woke up again... i could never find a better huggsie...

I found myself being lifted to the bathroom where a brush would be put into my mouth and as i swaggered like a drunkard, he would kneel behind me so that i could lean on him and brush...

Waiting impatiently as he brought my school uniform, i would lift my hands so that he could dress me up. He would then tie my belt, slip my tiny feet through socks and put my shoes on.. all the while my feet would be dangling furiously to some unknown tune, trying to get away from his hands...

My tiffen-box would be ready by the time i got to the table and my books packed into my bag according to the day's timetable. All i had to was slip my bag on and take the lunch basket. It would be carefully laid with a miniature lunch carrier, a towel, a floor mat, a water bottle and a spoon. On the days he missed the spoon or the mat i would get irritated.. couldn't he get something so simple right?

He would get on his bike and lift me up on the front. I loved riding in the front of the bike. it made me feel like i was driving and i would place my hands over his on the handle bar and make sounds as we made our way to school...

Once there, he would put me down and carry my bag and lunch basket till the entrance and then help me put them on.. As i walked in, i would turn everyday and find him standing there till i disappeared into the room. On days he had to leave urgently, i would know and not look back, afraid that he wouldn't be there...

After class, i would walk out to find him there already, standing away from everyone else, looking for his child.. I would sometimes just stand away and make him wait a long time to see if he'd leave... sometimes i'd stand behind him but never tell him i was there just to see what he'd do in a while... but he'd just wait... until i felt bad and joined him again...

After i reached home he would take my books out and see what i'd done... There would remarks about my bad handwriting, marks from a class test, some stars or some comments, exercises and homework.

As i ate lunch, he would decide what needed to be done for the day and draw up a working schedule...

I would spend afternoons learning to cycle.

He would come down and help me. Sometimes run behind me, carry me home when i hurt myself, getting me extra wheels for support, teaching me to ride without them, teaching me how to fly....

The evenings i spent finishing homework, studying for tests and writing on cursive handwriting notebooks (which i hate doing till date) .. he would sit next to me the whole time helping.. his hand over mine, guiding me through the lines of the alphabets.. i wouldn't realize it was 6 30 p.m until he would get up to leave.. and then would end my study hour.

When he left for work at 7, i was allowed to play again... and slowly.. the day would close..

Dinner would be given as i watched tv, but only on rare cases would he feed me... mostly he'd just walk around like an over-protective mother seeing if i ate the vegetables, if i had enough rice, if the food was ok, if i was full, if i needed anything else... (he still does that :) )

I didn't have a worry in the world... someone took care of it all :)

As 10 pm dawned, i was ushered into the bed room where i changed into night clothes that he already already taken out and laid on the bed for me.

I was scared of the dark. I wouldn't sleep alone...

He would lie down next to me on the tiny bed and watch me bury myself in his comfortably warm chest and drift away...

On some days i woke up n saw him asleep right next to me... uncomfortable in a bed too small for him.. nevertheless there because he didn't want to disturb me...

When i was just a 5-year-old...


Confusion

I wake up every morning to see,

He still does not smile at me.

What did i do to anger him so?

I dearly wished i could know.

I remembered his smiles from long ago,

Lifted me up when i was low.

So I went unto him and turned his lock,

He hadn't been wound in a long while; my clock.

C'est la vie...

Sometimes you think you are fine...

The world around you is awesome...

You are on a high...

Things are working out... exactly the way you want them to...

You learn to forget the things you must...

You learn... at last... to move on....

You learn that sometimes you cannot look back without feeling unbelievable pain...

You learn to take everyday as your last day...

You finally learn to be free...

You think you are invincible...

You grow to love yourself for the very first time after a lifetime of self loathing...

You learn to prioritize life and become responsible...

People call it a 'transformation'...

You finally learn to voice out and protect yourself...

You think you are finally 'mature'...

You think your past will never put you down again...

Past? What past? There is only a future...

Even the present is only an immediate past or future...

You learn to love the little things...

You smile for no reason at all...

You wake up in the morning and think its beautiful...

You are no more afraid of the darkness...

You embrace it...

You can handle anything.... anyone....

You don't need anyone...

You are your life...

No one else can take that from you...

You finally learn to discover yourself and settle in...

You look at old pictures and wonder who it was looking back at you...

It definitely wasn't you...

You feel like a bird...

Everything seems so beautiful...

Everything seems so perfect....

And then there are.................................

Those who remind you of the past... again and again.... just to hurt you

Loved ones who sometimes never understand... even when they know they should...

Years spent trying to be someone you are not to keep people happy...

Those songs... that haunt... like the ghost of unfulfilled love...

Those places.... that you never want to go to again... but stand tall like skyscrapers in front of you all the time....

Those people you hate but can never let go of...

The anger that surges within when you are judged for being liberal...

Those memories that hang on stronger when you try to forget...

Time... that merely numbs but doesn't heal...

Those days when you cant sleep and stare at the wall for hours for no reason at all...

Those moments you feel like ending it all...

Pain that can't be described...

The millions of silent tears....

Regret... that eats you constantly from inside...

Those times when you want to talk to someone but there's no one around...

Those months spent on fruitless pursuit..

The many years wasted...

Realization...

Life.....

Gerald Durell and FP

Last evening at a bookstore, Father P suggests books to buy:

FP: Why don't you buy Gerald Durell? I used to love reading his books as a kid.

Me: What does he write on?

FP: He catches and preserves exotic animals... he writes on how he catches them

Me: Interesting *picks up a book* 'My family and other and other animals'.. *Hints* I wonder who he was writing about.

FP: His adolescent daughter probably.

Me: *feigns anger* How rude!

FP: You're right! Sorry. If it was about his daughter he'd have named it 'My daughter. There's no other animal like her.'

Me: -_-

Again... and again

Well... that settles it...

I'm not going to change my template again...

Noserieee..

No matter how tempting it is...

I will stick to this... no matter what....

Come what may...

I will be the epitome and embodiment of self control....

OoOooooo.... How does this one look?

Oops... *blushes* Changed again...