I seldom melancholy, wishing for an anticlockwise ticking to take place, where I relive the pace with each second growing younger powered with effervescence and vigour to create a picture of my own.
I Sit by the windowsill with a hot cup of tea, my vision veiled and surrounded by the foggy morning and the spell of cold striking my nerves. All this for just a wave of the hands and a smile on their face; determined each morning on knowing the monotony that I have in store, I wait with aspiration to reconnect with my girls .
My head feels heavy with the perpetual thought of what my girls may think of me being an intransigent mother, who is lackadaisical in approach , on the other hand they know of my unpredictable ailments but fancy not knowing of it and sporting a mask in pretence! The duality of strong and emotional qualities that they possess and, the only ones to tug at my heartstrings, and on Letting this moment freeze !
All I want is the best for them, the smile on their faces that embraces their
laughter, the burst of their exuberance reaching out for more, the mystifying incessant tales under the cimmerian pillow, their barbies and hair bands with which I want to play with reminiscing my childhood days. As I see them growing and realise something inherent slipping out of hand but, obvious and inevitable. I observe myself and strike to comphrend that every milestone, (nonetheless seeming better than the prior) will be cherished.I realise that as mothers we wish for them to grow faster and when time passes by we out of the blue realise that this is not right! Thus behold every moment with them. Never know when they might just have to leave.Just when... I realised i have forgotton about the milk on the stove ; an odor permeating into the flavor of the air stupefies me...
I Sit by the windowsill with a hot cup of tea, my vision veiled and surrounded by the foggy morning and the spell of cold striking my nerves. All this for just a wave of the hands and a smile on their face; determined each morning on knowing the monotony that I have in store, I wait with aspiration to reconnect with my girls .
My head feels heavy with the perpetual thought of what my girls may think of me being an intransigent mother, who is lackadaisical in approach , on the other hand they know of my unpredictable ailments but fancy not knowing of it and sporting a mask in pretence! The duality of strong and emotional qualities that they possess and, the only ones to tug at my heartstrings, and on Letting this moment freeze !
All I want is the best for them, the smile on their faces that embraces their
laughter, the burst of their exuberance reaching out for more, the mystifying incessant tales under the cimmerian pillow, their barbies and hair bands with which I want to play with reminiscing my childhood days. As I see them growing and realise something inherent slipping out of hand but, obvious and inevitable. I observe myself and strike to comphrend that every milestone, (nonetheless seeming better than the prior) will be cherished.I realise that as mothers we wish for them to grow faster and when time passes by we out of the blue realise that this is not right! Thus behold every moment with them. Never know when they might just have to leave.Just when... I realised i have forgotton about the milk on the stove ; an odor permeating into the flavor of the air stupefies me...
Then, swept by my zealous pace i reach towards the kitchen just to see the milk over spill! an auspicious moment in Indian mythology and,the clincher for a new begining of a new day.
