Old Leg

My veranda smelled like old dust and the rusted chairs added to the ambience of lethargy. I had wrinkled through, and out of my glory days. This weak tea and sugar-free biscuits comprised my morning and evenings. The sun set; birds flew back home. 

My predicament lay static.

Every minute detail appeared emphatic.

Like young-age stilettos, nostalgia clicked, at every corner of my memories. A blasted entourage of vanishing mirth and laughter. They said, body aches were the beginning of a new journey. Or sadly so, an end. This old leg was proving to be a bit of a trouble lately. Like a horrible dream, I’d shake the pain off for just a bit.

How fruitful is the physical pain,

That can take over the memory lane.

An empty cup; cue for the execution of the next activity.

Not wanting to hurry, I sat there an extra few minutes just so I could sigh in my solitude and feel like I had achieved it all in life.

But no one could achieve it ‘all’. No achievement ever topped the list. My own seemed so shallow and worthless in front of this Behemoth made up of loneliness and fears alone.

City lights, and a fake smile;

Sacrificing, to be enough and agile.

A premonition made its way through like a serpent towards its first bite. I had sat there for much more than time permitted. I gently placed my right hand on my knee, took a little support of the arm rest and there I was, on my feet. Ready to gawk around at whatever my eyes would find. Mundane takes time to get used to. It certainly does.

The doorbell rang. A few shrunken jolts of a childlike excitement built up in my body as I moved out of my veranda and into the seclusion of my room. Upon reaching the door I figured it must be the neighbour. Asking for sugar, chilli or something of the sorts they use in newly married houses.

All I had to give,

Was experience in a wrap.

But everyone’s more concerned,

With looking for the Map.

To my surprise, my neighbour’s one year old daughter stood at the door. Her wide eyes looked up at my crooked nose like I’d done the work of a Genie for her. They sparkled in a distinct manner, much more rident than mine would have ever looked. That toothless smile spilled sugar in my mouth and that’s when I caught myself smiling. How could I not? There

she was, an oblivious little child gazing at me with a gigantic, inexplicable awe. Like I had completed the world’s most impossible task by opening the door.

Achievements. The real ones.

It would be hard to explain this feeling. It was a scintillating vibe of satisfaction and my chest swelled up with a tender joy. All because of that one look in her eyes.

“Aunty, could I have today’s newspaper? He has just came home and I cannot recall where I kept it.”

Sigh. Their sugar and chilli.