The wrenching feeling wafted away on a warm summer zephyr leaving only rustling leaves in its wake. Novelty twinkled at me in lights that brightened my path on a balmy eve. That’s when the finishing touches to a transition from a child to grown up was quickly made, leaving no sense of regret or loss. Instead a fulfilling feeling of well being swelled within me, blotting out other thoughts and emotions. If life’s going to be doled out to me in pieces, I’ve been getting a taste of what’s in store for me in every morsel I bite into with gusto. But expectation doesn’t take the joy out of savouring every bit handed out to me, rationed, like everyone else.
The moon may inspire poets but here I’m grasping for words that float away on wisps of thought uncongealed. Words seem too little a compensation for what every sense is on fire with. Joy is a long winding road with no one in sight, nothing but trees and cultivated land and the breeze that swills my hair about. Sleep and dreams bartered for something equally precious. People, remarks, jokes, comments, discussions and everything the day encompassed is momentarily forgotten as I savour this ‘aliveness’. It’s an incredible feeling, impossible to describe.