It started ok, a harmless idea. A rather perfect chance to get away from what I had guessed would normally be (and wrongly was so) an ordinary lazy Saturday. So when an invitation was put on my desk in the form of a hand-held fan a week ago, I said to myself, heck why not. Immediately I browsed for a fairly priced mean to get me there, and being early in nature, I successfully did.
Knowing everything was set, I had a relaxed approach to the week. Everything was going according to plan, all I had to do was work the week away with all the many bits of preparations for a series of events for the coming weeks. And for that, I appreciate the tireless effort of the guys in my section. You guys roll!
Anyhow, Saturday came, and all I can say is that I'm grateful. I'm well and alive to see the drizzly morning, which somehow has always been my kind of weather. I don't know how, but it probably has something to do with the story my mom always tell people concerning the circumstance of my birth into this beautiful planet earth. Yes, my mom does that sometimes, telling specific stories of how she gave birth to each of her four children.
"It was raining all night", mother would always say when it comes to my story, "...and I've been in the hospital since the afternoon." She'd been ok with the pregnancy and all, it's her second time round expecting a child so no big problem. But the weather being like that with thunder rolling occasionally frequent made it kinda restless for her to sleep the night away but it's alright. My mom is an amazing strong awesome person and I know for a fact that something tedious like a long thunderous rain outside her window won't even be enough to falter the purpose of giving birth to an equally awesome person (or so I try to be).
Mother would go on to continue her story saying that only in the early hours of morn that the heavy rain from the night before would finally begin to give in and ease out becoming a gentle drizzle. She said it's as if the weather was preparing the day for something special. And as it turned out, it was. Cause not long after that, I came to exist in this world, that drizzly Friday morning, becoming my mom's world as she would say, leaving me always breathless every time I remember her story.
...
Knowing everything was set, I had a relaxed approach to the week. Everything was going according to plan, all I had to do was work the week away with all the many bits of preparations for a series of events for the coming weeks. And for that, I appreciate the tireless effort of the guys in my section. You guys roll!Anyhow, Saturday came, and all I can say is that I'm grateful. I'm well and alive to see the drizzly morning, which somehow has always been my kind of weather. I don't know how, but it probably has something to do with the story my mom always tell people concerning the circumstance of my birth into this beautiful planet earth. Yes, my mom does that sometimes, telling specific stories of how she gave birth to each of her four children.
"It was raining all night", mother would always say when it comes to my story, "...and I've been in the hospital since the afternoon." She'd been ok with the pregnancy and all, it's her second time round expecting a child so no big problem. But the weather being like that with thunder rolling occasionally frequent made it kinda restless for her to sleep the night away but it's alright. My mom is an amazing strong awesome person and I know for a fact that something tedious like a long thunderous rain outside her window won't even be enough to falter the purpose of giving birth to an equally awesome person (or so I try to be).
Mother would go on to continue her story saying that only in the early hours of morn that the heavy rain from the night before would finally begin to give in and ease out becoming a gentle drizzle. She said it's as if the weather was preparing the day for something special. And as it turned out, it was. Cause not long after that, I came to exist in this world, that drizzly Friday morning, becoming my mom's world as she would say, leaving me always breathless every time I remember her story.
...
W. S.
Comments
Post a Comment