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"Papa tells me what you see," I remember asking him one day. "Let's see, there's sun up in the blue sky, few clouds around it. People walking, some busy, some lazy. Trees green. Birds." "Birds color?" I interrupt him. "Pink," Papa whispers close to my ear. "Yes," I yell out. It's was a typical Sunday morning and our usual ritual is to watch the neighborhood through our window. "What else?" I asked looking straight. "There's our landlord outside fighting with a vegetable seller for a carrot," Papa said making a funny noise. "What color are carrots Papa?" "White," Papa stammers a lot in between, it's because of the age he says. We laugh it out. Papa bought me Around the world in eighty days braille book for me on my last birthday. I had already read it more than fifty times. My teacher Jacob taught me how to read and write. He was a good man, he treated me special. "Even though you are blind. You are a special child." He said one day. Papa punched him in the face. He never came back. At night I try to teach papa how to read but he never gets it right. When I was ten. Papa bought me my favorite Jane Austen book. It must have cost a fortune. It's nothing he said. Papa always worked hard. I once asked why he uses a stick like mine he said it helps him to walk. It wasn't until he passed away and I was shifted to special adult care that I learned that Papa was blind and autistic. "He was an incomplete man. I wonder how they let him adopt you." one of the caretakers say. "That too in that little house." another one adds. Tears well up, my mouth dries, I wanted to scream at them but I didn't. That night holding the only photo of papa close to my chest I whisper " Even if you were blind you showed me colors in the only way you knew papa. Maybe you were incomplete but your love never was. It was pure, just like you." As I cried that night, the sky being too generous wept with me.

Walts music plays in the background. Everyone is dressed in black, with their head, hung low. They all look like puppets. "I'm sorry for your loss." some mumbles holding Mr. Fernandez's hand. Mr. Fernandez stares at the lifeless body of his wife, without blinking "I'm afraid if I close my eyes, she'll be gone." he says. Deb stands next to him. Both their shoulders sang down. I catch deb looking at me now and then.  There's a kindness in his moist eyes.  After a while, as night comes to life, people leave one by one. We find ourself in the middle of the graveyard inches away from Mr. and Mrs. Fernandez. "I can't believe she's no more," I say leaning on the oak tree nearby. Deb stays silent. Mr. Fernandez kneels down by the side of the coffin sobbing quietly. . "Let's go," Deb says walking ahead. "Wait. Shouldn't we wait for him?" "No. He wants to be alone." Deb says looking at Mr. Fernandez. "How do you know Deb?" "Because if I was him I would want to be alone." "Okay," I reply and start walking with him. . "Isn't it funny Noor?" Deb begins "Hospitals and graveyards are the only places where people confess their love." "Maybe yes. Never thought about it." . Far away the sound of the river and the bird's chirping plays background music as we walk. . "Do you think he will be okay Deb?" "No. He won't." Deb replies after a while. "With time he will learn to be. That's how it always is." I answer mostly to myself. . "Time never makes memories fade Noor." . "Well then what can we do when the person you love leaves us?" Deb looks up at the cloud as an artist examining his art, inhaling every bit of the air that lies at the moment. "You grieve. You grieve all the time you took for granted. But in the end, there's nothing we can do." "Nothing?" I ask. We both sit on the nearby bench. "You let them leave just like how they came. Quietly holding them in your heart as long as you breathe, carrying them with every step of the way. Some people think when we die we meet them but I think that's when we really let them go." . We both watch as the night slip by, the whole world welcomes sleep like a lover. But not us, not tonight.

// there’s something about the night sky that ignites my wonderment the calming depth of blue together with minuscule twinkles seem inviting to the eyes the want of floating amidst them just to witness the luminance emitted by their ruling moon, plainly leaves a sigh at my lips a display of nothingness yet an array of alluring composites with secrets hidden beneath its blanket of darkness this sky holds more than what we know of, that of which i yearn to know but then i wonder if, maybe, it’s just me //

How often do you put yourself first? Follow @mazelogue for more original posts. Tag and credit for any reposts #mazelogue

Some place even I know not of. Follow @mazelogue for more original posts. Tag and credit for any reposts #mazelogue PC - Pinterest

Time heals all. Follow @mazelogue for more original posts. Tag and credit for any reposts #mazelogue