I was distraught because I couldn't meet her before she left. Checking my mailbox for any updates, I found her mail buried under several mails promising quite a lot of things. I had almost sent it to trash before I read it. Nothing much from her, except that she had reached safely. Her friends were very happy and excited because she's spending the Christmas with them. She also sounded a little sad because she will not be home for Christmas this time. I could do nothing but shoot off a reply to her.
.....
Christmas is a time for joy. I know that not spending it at home does not bring joy. But Christmas is not always joy. It means quite a lot of things to us than just joy. It means sharing; it means giving. It means having to make sacrifices. It means to remember our souls of our beliefs. I guess I am getting too philospohical here.

But don't worry, Enjoy this Christmas with your friends. Get out into the city and enjoy it. Remember what I used to say,"Life life to the max."

Convey my Christmas wishes to __________, ____________, and ____________. Tell them I could'nt get what they wanted. I am trying. It might take time.
........
As I wrote that letter, I realized that some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go. I am starting to let go of her. As I had said earlier, Hell is not a place, it's a state of mind and body; Hell is obsession with a voice, a face, a name... Hers... And I am getting out of it as soon as possible.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I spoke about walking away yesterday. On second thoughts, I realized that I would be walking away from just my emotions. I still harbour my feelings for her deep within my heart. Maybe one day they will come out in the sunshine. This period of indecision seems so hard that I am often torn between the fight between my head and my heart in the words of Chris de Burgh: For we cannot live together, and we cannot live apart, It's the classical dilemma between the head and the heart; ..... And in my heart of darkness she has been the only light, I am lost in love, looking at her face, And still I hear the voice of reason, Telling me to chase these dreams away, Oh here we go again, we're divided from the start, For we cannot live together, and we cannot live apart, It's the classical dilemma between the head and the heart, ... Now the dawn begins, and still I cannot sleep, My head is spinning round but now the way is clear to me, There is nothing left, nothing left to
Read more
Yesterday was a total disaster. She was leaving that night and I was trying desperately to reach her home on time. When I finally did, she wasn't there. Her mother said she had gone to a relative's place. Waiting for her, I looked around me. Her touch could be seen everywhere in her house. From a painting that hung on the wall to the precisely arranged flowers on the table. God, how would my home look if she looked after it. Her photo albums offered a glimpse of her life down the years. I hadn't really noticed how she had changed over the years. I found it difficult to believe that they were pictures of the same girl I knew. Maybe it is true that love is blind. She always looked lovely whenever she wore skirts. Her room had the presence of an intelligent woman. Books lay neatly arranged in shelves with academic related ones on one shelf and other books on another. An elegant crucifix adorned the top shelf. Her desk too was arranged so neat. I recalled her saying that
Read more
It's Christmas. Hurray!!! Joy to the world, The Lord is born. Christmas morn saw me reminiscing about her. Wished I could wished her "Merry Christmas". The floodgate of memories burst open when I was in church. An incident at the church triggered it. I was standing outside the church when I noticed two small kids, a boy of 6/7 years and a girl maybe 5/6 years old. They were looking at each other, thier dresses, thier difference in lifestyles. The boy seemed to from a well-to-do family while the girl was not of the same social status of the boy. I could see the girl looking at the boy with wonder, his clothes, all sparkling new. He had a water-bottle strapped around his arms. She looked at the boy with curiosity. I saw her comparing her clothes with the boy's. She was also well dressed but not as well dressed as the boy. No words were exchanged during these five minutes between them. Only looks were exchanged. The girl's were those of curiosity and the
Read more