i sat down. i had to collect myself before reading the handwritten messages. i couldn't decide to let my cheeks be damped with tears by reading mom's or fatty's card first. either one would rapture my heart anyway. i chuckled at the p.s and p.p.s fatty wrote to me. she couldn't stand mom's bebelan. she knows well to armor me back with cynicism. my baby sister. i must've repeated myself a couple of times, but when i wrote, one of the setbacks of being far from home is that tears stream down as easy as when you turn the water tap, it was rewarding to be quoted on facebook.
after three pages and the beauty of double-spacing i finished the narrative essay. just typical to have it done the night before its submission. i need to alter this habit, but it seems effective the way it is. except that it could bring harm if the requirement is up to 12 pages. i need to alter this habit. perhaps i should publish the piece online, but for now i'd settle for a sneak peek. just for the sake of celebrating my last minute work.
***
I gave a soft knock on her bedroom door, just enough to acknowledge a visitor’s presence. My right hand turned on the doorknob and with a squeaking sound the door peeked myself in. The strong vibration of emotion perhaps signals the room because the room too felt her grief. The vibrant pink bed sheet, which has always been the heart of the room, somehow appeared mundane. Sorrow overcastted the room.“He’s gone. Syaza, he’s gone.”
I caressed her. I caressed her trembling body. What should I say? What could I say?
“I tak sempat nak jumpa dia.”
Tears profusely rivers down her cheek as she regretfully murmurs the time lost before his eternal departure. I held her real tight I could almost hear our bones clucking one another. The tighter I caress, the harder she weeps. What should I say? What could I say?
***
goodnight, and have a brownie. mine had little love sprinkles.
