Whispers to an empty wind

Her cell phone bleated an old tune for a TV show that let her know the person on the other end was her older brother. When they were little, he used to watch that show religiously and in all the years from then to now, it reminded her ever of him. The song started over once more by the time she picked it up, pressed the button, and put the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?" she said, immediately.

"Hey siz," her brother replied, warmly, "How are things?"

"Things are good," she began as she stood up and pulled her knit sweater sleeve up over her elbow with her free hand. "It's been quiet, generally. Tim's been gone for work a lot and the kids have been in school for a couple of months now, so it's mainly just been me and dad."

"Dad isn't making a lot of noise?" he chuckled.

"No..." She got up from her chair and made her way to the front door.

"How's he doing?"

"He's doing good. He has good days and not so good days, but more good days than bad lately, so that's been helpful."

"How's he doing with medication? Is it the same stuff he's on?"

"Yeah, they upped the dosage but it's the same stuff."

"And it's slowing down?"

"I think so, maybe. You can never really tell with Diabetes. That's what they keep telling me anyway. It's all so frustrating one way or the other."

"How do you mean?"

"It's like he's there, but he's not. His attitude, his personality are there sometimes, but it's almost like his eyes are hollow and he just doesn't understand where or who he is." She finished her sentence and turned the knob on the door so she could take the walk out into the windy chilly twilight.

"I feel like a jackass hearing that."

Before he could explain, she asked him, "Why?"

"I feel like I should be the one taking care of him."

"You didn't saddle me with him or anything. I wanted to take him."

"I know, but... I just feel like I should be there."

"I won't argue that you can always be here more, but you're seven-hundred miles away. I understand why you're not here more."

"If he needs me--if you need me--I'll be there in a heart beat."

"I know."

There was a pause as neither brother nor sister knew what to say.

She shuffled her feet through a thicket of dry leaves beneath her tree on the sidewalk in front of her house.

"So what does he do with his time?"

"Oh, this and that. He used to do a lot of crossword puzzles, but those got too difficult for him, so he does word searches a lot now. He watches a lot of movies."

"He always did that, though."

"Yeah. But the hardest part of it is putting on one of his favorite series and having him ask me if he's ever seen it before. I put on, what was that series...? the one with Undertaker..."

"Wrestling."

"Yeah. He's watched it for the first time about twenty times this month."

"Oh."

"And he always wants to watch Undertaker, but every time I put in a Wrestling series, he doesn't recognize Undertaker--"

"--really?"

"Yeah. And then, he gets mad at me that I didn't put in Wrestling. It's exasperating sometimes."

"I can imagine."

"And he just can't do jigsaw puzzles. I tried to help him with them, but I would just end up getting too frustrated, it's not his fault, so then I feel guilty and Tim has to put up with me crying myself to sleep."

"How's Tim dealing with all of this?"

"It's been getting easier on him. He and dad never got along and it's always been a source of tension for him to have him in the house all the time, and he's sort of... coming to terms with the idea that this isn't really Dad anymore. I think it's easier for him to deal with it for the same reason it's harder for me."

"It's hard to realize that it's not him so much anymore. It's what's left of what he used to be and it kills me that it's fallen solely on you to make him comfortable."

She paced back and forth through the leaves, "Do you know who Dr. Susunya is?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Dad keeps asking about him."

"That was the family doctor for years. He delivered the both of us. I think he retired just after you were born. I remember seeing him a few times as a kid."

"Why was he asking about him, do you think?"

"I think maybe it's just a matter of comfort. It's no secret that you older you get the more comfortable you like to be and Dr. Susunya was his doctor for thirty years before he retired."

"I guess that makes sense."

"Hm. I never really thought about it like that before. You spend thirty years getting completely comfortable with your doctor and he retires right when you'd want to be able to rely on him the most. When you're set in your ways, you need to find a new doctor ."

"It's frightening when you put it like that."

"Maybe it is."

"Well, I should get back in there. His series ending soon."

"All right. You take care, siz."

"You too."

"Let me know if you need anything."

"I will."

"Bye-bye."

Chris Tomlin ' I Will Rise'

Amazing Grace (My Chains are Gone) - Chris Tomlin (with lyrics)

Unfailing Love - Chris Tomlin

Reading the mind in the eyes

The eye position shifts or moves in correlation with the mind.It can move in the following positions:-

1. Up and to the right
2. Middle left
3. Middle right

Up and to the right

This eye position, like the up and to the left, is also connected with the visual memory and it indicates that a person is remembering visual images.

Ask someone “what color shirt did you wear two days ago?” and this would be the direction their eyes would move. In their minds, they are visually remembering the color.

The up eye position, whether it is left or right, indicates a visual mindset. Left is for constructing images and right is for remembering images.

Middle left

The middle position is connected with the auditory mental processes. When in auditory mental process, a person thinks by hearing sounds. He or she often describes things in terms of sound, saying such things as “Do you hear what I mean?” or “The way it sounds to me is…”

The middle left position indicates that a person is in auditory construction mode.
Ask someone “create the sound of an exploding bomb in your mind” and you’ll notice that this would be the direction their eyes move. They are mentally creating the sound image of an exploding bomb.

Middle right

This is another position connected with the auditory mental process, but unlike the left position this is for auditory memory.When someone is in this mental process, they remember a sound they previously heard.

As an example, ask someone “Remember what the national anthem sounds like”. You will notice that their eyes would move to the right as they try to remember the song.

The store site

I forgot my speech

This was it. My speech night. I wore a dress mum organised for me and my favorite shoes,'pams',thats how I called them. We hopped in the car. It was boiling. I wound down my window. Our air-conditioner is broken and our car had been parked in the sun all day.

I hadn't had time to practice my speech and brought the paper it was written on. Whoosh! It flew out the window. This was a disaster. I didn't tell mum. She would be furious!

We arrived at the speech and drama place. I was nervous. I watched all the other speakers. They were great. I had a real competition.

"And that's why dogs chase their tails" said my best friend before a large applause. I knew I was right after her. I was petrified. I don't even know what my speech was.

I slowly walked up on stage. "I forgot my speech. It was a great speech." I said slowly, sadly. I saw that the audience were determined to listen to what I said next. Silence.

"It was about animals, drama, stories, just about everything. It had ten reasons why you should own a chicken. I can only remember one. They make you rich and make your lawn nice and pretty. Good compost. I had a drama thing on Shakespeare. I researched it and told every last word of it, but now I don't remember a thing. You see I can't remember things very clearly. I had info on heaps of birds, and charts, pictures. My speech would have gone for very long time. I had recounts on the story book Green Egg. I also had a movie recount on The movie Elf. They were great but I can't remember any of that. I'm sorry especially to my mother."

The crowd looked around at each other. Someone started clapping and then a couple more, then people were cheering their heads off. I walked off the stage.

"And the winner is..." Said the host "Khachendani Mwimbi!" That was me. I didn't even have a speech. I had it. They thought that was the speech. Anyway I think I did pretty well.

My mother was very pleased and so was I.

Crazy,yes,but not stupid

One truck driver was doing his usual delivery to MMH, the Mathari Mental Hospital.

He discovered a flat tire when he was about to go home. He jacked up the truck and took the flat tire down.

When he was about to fix the spare tire, he accidentally dropped all the bolts into the drain. As he can't fish the bolts out, he started to panic.

One patient happened to walk past and asked the driver what happened. The driver thought to himself, since there's nothing much he can do; he told the patient the whole incident.

The patient laughed at him and said "can't even fix such a simple problem.... no wonder you are destined to be a truck driver..."

Here's what you can do, take one bolt each from the other 3 tires and fix it onto this tire. Then drive to the nearest workshop and replace the missing ones, easy as that" The driver was very impressed and asked "You're so smart but why are you here at the MMH?"

Patient replied: "Hello, I stay here because I'm crazy. not stupid!"

Really!I thought .....

They were running late on this particular morning. They followed the same routine every morning, the mother went off to catch the bus to work and the daughter caught the bus to school. Frequently, the mother would sometimes leave the house an hour before her daughter, but on this specific morning, they made the journey to the bus stop together. The mother would later share with a close friend that she was relieved they were late that morning and also relieved they had been together to share what they were about to encounter.

They strolled, side by side down the alley towards the road, chatting about the day ahead. The familiar conversation flowed about what to have for dinner and their plans to do things over the coming weekend. It was a Thursday and they had previously arranged to meet up later and go shopping together. For a while now, it had been just the two them, mother and daughter, alone, but together. They shared an intimate relationship and more importantly that special kind of friendship that some mothers and daughters are lucky enough to achieve, but today, something would come to pass that was to devastate them, but empower their exceptional bond even more.

When they reached the street where they regularly waited for the bus, the mother turned to her daughter and kissed her cheek, ruffling her well plaited braids.

“Have a good day." she said, and turned to cross the road.

“Bye Mum." she replied and began to walk up the street, towards her bus stop. Suddenly the young girl yelled out quite innocently.

“Mum look, Sophie’s here!" Her mum whirled around and to her absolute horror and sadness was forced to take in the sight of what was laying on the ground near the road.

“Oh My God!" She said, checking for traffic and running back across the road. She prayed silently to herself, that it wasn’t their dear friend laying near the road. She looked at her daughter, and then back at the roadside. It was definitely her there was no doubt in her mind. She studied the her daughter’s face attempting to read her thoughts. The girl bent down and stretched out her hand as if she were going to touch the body laying on the roadside.

“No sweetie!" her mother cautioned gently. “Don’t touch her."

She gaped at her mother, obviously shocked and confused.

“Why?" she asked, innocently, totally unaware of what had occurred.

“Because she’s dead sweetheart" came her mother’s sad reply, she took a deep breath, trying desperately to control the tears that had started to flow. The young girl broke down and began to cry uncontrollably, sobbing incoherently.

“She can’t be dead," She cried out, shuddering violently, “Mum, Sophie can’t die."

She stood there shaking her head, her eyes full of tears, saying over and over again,

“No, no, no!" She looked up into her mother’s eyes hopefully but the serious expression on her mother’s face told a different story.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, but she’s gone." The mother replied with a tone of finality in her voice.

“No mum, she’s just asleep," argued the child, “she’s asleep, that’s all."

“I know it looks that way, but she isn’t." said her mother, taking her daughter’s hand and squeezing it gently.

“You’re wrong mum," said the girl, pulling her hand away, “Sophie’s just asleep."

“I really wish that was the case." said her mother calmly as she turned to look down at the roadside.

“What happened mum, why is she here, so close to the road?" she asked.

“It looks like a car hit her sweetie." answered her mother.

“No Mum." said the child, shaking her head unbelieveably, “Sophie would never walk in front of a car."

“Maybe she didn’t see the car, maybe it was dark." replied her mother.

“So did it happen last night?" asked the daughter.

“Probably." She acknowledged sadly, she had already noticed how wet the body was, like she had been laying out in the rain for hours.

“I want to go home mum," said the daughter, starting to shake, “I can’t go to school today, I just can’t Mum, I want to go home."

“I know." said the mother, suddenly aware that they should go home and make some unpleasant, but necessary phone calls. She stood there frozen to the spot, unable to move, trying to get a hold on her emotions.

“So what are we doing Mum?" asked the daughter, rubbing her hands together impatiently, still in a state of total disbelief.

“Going home sweetie," she said, “I’m just thinking, that’s all."

“We can’t leave her here mum." she protested, suddenly.

“Well of course we won’t , we’ll go home and ring some people first okay, don’t worry I will take care everything." said her mother reassuringly.

“O.K." said the daughter, with a confused expression etched on her young face.

“Let’s go, Mum." She walked off up the path ahead of her mother, her mother following behind her trying to piece together what had taken place. She could see from her daughter’s frame of mind that she would not be going to school today, which meant she would have call her employers and make her excuses.

They walked together up the narrow laneway, towards their street and turned into the driveway of their house. It was a beautiful, sunny, February day and the sky was a clear, perfect blue. A typical african  morning, which seemed to forecast a beautiful day ahead.

“I can’t believe it mum." said the daughter

“Neither can I." She replied. She took out the keys and unlocked the back door. They went into the house and sat down in the lounge room, both trying to collect their thoughts and take in what they had just discovered. They sat there for several minutes, the mother was trying to ascertain the best way to handle this predicament.

“We can’t leave her there mum!" said the child again, obviously fretting about this.

“I promise you we will take care of it, its O.K." she reassured her again, picking up the telephone, she began to dial.

“Who are you calling?" her daughter asked.

“Just some people that I need to speak to." she replied, continuing to dial the telephone, she went into the other room to have her conversation, in order to have some privacy and not alarm her daughter any further. She remained seated on the lounge chair, waiting for her mother to finish. She began to cry again, wishing out loud that she had never made the discovery on the ground beside the road.

“Why did I have to find her Mum?" she yelled out. “It’s not fair." Her mother did not answer, she was obviously still on the telephone. The daughter continued to mumble forlornly to herself about how unfair it all was.

“When I find out who did this, they will be sorry," said the daughter, still sobbing. “How could someone just run her over and leave her there like that?"

When the mother was done with the telephone, she returned to the lounge room and began to caress her child’s soft hair.

“Come on, we have things to do." she said, taking her hand. “Let’s get moving."

Her daughter didn’t reply straight away, she remained silent as if still attempting to accept all that had occurred. She sighed loundly and stood up.

“Mum, are you sure she’s really dead, she could be asleep?" she looked at her mother hopefully, praying that her mother would confirm her fantasy, but it was not to be. The mother shook her head sadly and picked up her keys from the coffee table.

“Are you sure it’s really Sophie?" she asked with the same hope shining in her innocent eyes.

“Yes sweetie it’s her." Answered her mother soothingly and calmly, not as calm as she felt. She wanted to scream and then dissolve into tears, but knew full well how unappropriate that would be.

“Come on, time to go." said her mother, heading for the door and standing at the stairs waiting. The girl relunctantly followed her outside and they stood together in the backyard.

“Would you like to pick some flowers for her?" Asked her mother, looking around the backyard, trying to decide which flowers to pick.

“Yes," she answered immediately, heading towards the front garden where her mother’s favourite roses were. “That would be really nice Mum."

Her mother went back into the house to get the garden shears, they walked around the front and cut some beautiful, bright pink roses that had just come into bloom a few day before. They very carefully clipped off the thorns and bundled the flowers together. The mother laid the shears down on the back stairs, making a metal note to put them back in the house when they returned home. They gathered some things together and set off up the driveway, heading for the laneway the led to the roadside.

When they reached the spot where she lay, they both stood there, transfixed for a moment, wondering how it could’ve happened. How could she get run over by a car? She was in a slightly, curled up position on her side as if she were fast asleep. The daughter bent down and reached out a gloved hand to touch her skin, she was wet and freezing cold. She snatched back her hand in horror.

“She really is dead, Mum." she acknowledged, her heart sinking with despair.

“Yes she is." Her mother confirmed, remembering the severe thunderstorms the previous night.

‘She has no doubt been here all night.’ she thought to herself silently. They knelt down on the ground and both began to stroke her hair, the daughter placed the flowers on the grass, next to where she lay.

“My sweetie,Sophie, I love you." sobbed the daughter.

“Oh Sophie," her mother broke in, swallowing hard, her heart in her mouth. “You silly, silly girl, why did you have to take on a car?"

They both reached out and stroked her once more and then very gently, they picked her up and placed her in the bag that they had brought with them and moved the flowers to the spot where she had lain. The daughter picked up the bag.

“I’ll carry her Mum," she announced and then softly spoke to what was inside the bag “we’re taking you home," her mother nodded silently and picked up Sophie’s cat collar, which they had removed earlier. They stood for a few moments and stared at the area near the roadside where they had discovered her. Still not accepting what had taken place, they reluctantly and remosefully trudged homewards to bury their beloved pet.

Loving an imperfect person

They have been married for two years. He loves literature and often posts his work on the net, but nobody ever reads them. He is also into photography and he handles their wedding photos. He loves her very much. Likewise with her. She has a quick temper and always bullies him. He is a gentleman and always gives in to her.

Today, she's being willful again.
Her: "Why can't you be the photographer for my friend's wedding? She promised she'd pay."
Him: "I don't have time that day."
Her: "Humph!"
Him: "Huh?"
Her: "Don't have time? Write less of those novels, and you will have all the time you need."
Him: "I... someone will definitely recognize my work some day."
Her: "Humph! I don't care, you'll have to do it for her!"
Him: "No."
Her: "Just this once?"
Him: "No."

Negotiation's broken. So, she gave the final warning: "Give me a Yes within three days, or else..."
First day, she "withheld" the kitchen, bathroom, computer, refrigerator, television.Except the double bed, to show her "benevolence".Of course, she has to sleep on it too. He didn't mind, as he still has some cash in his pockets.

Second day, she conducted a raid and removed everything from his pockets and warned, "Seek any external help, and you bear the consequences."He's nervous now. That night, on the bed, he begs for mercy, hoping that she'll end this state. She doesn't give him a chance to explain. No way am I giving in, whatever he says. Until he agrees.

Third day, night. On the couch waiting for dinner. He's scribbling on his notebook, looking to one side. She's lying on the couch, looking to the other side.
Him: "We need to talk."
Her: "Unless it's about the wedding, forget it."
Him: "It's something very important."
She remains silent.
Him:"Let's get a divorce."
She did not believe her ears.
Him: "I got to know a lady."

She's totally angry, and wanted to hit him. But she held it down, wanting to let him finish. But her eyes already felt teary. He took a photo out from his chest. Probably from his undershirt pocket, that's the only place she didn't go through yesterday. How careless.

Him: "She's a nice girl."
Her tears fell.
Him: "She has a good personality too."
She's heartbroken because he puts a photo of some other girl close to his heart.
Him: "She says that she'll support me fully in my pursue for literature after we got married."
She's very jealous because she said the same thing in the past.
Him: "She loves me truly."
She wishes to sit up and scream at him "Don't I?"
Him: "So, I think she won't force me to do something that I don't want to do."
She's thinking, but the rage won't subside.
Him: "Want to take a look at the photo I took for her?"
Her: "...!"
He brings the photo before her eyes. She's in a total rage, hits his hand away and leaves a burning slap on his face.

He sighs. She cries.
He puts the photo back to his pocket. She pulls her hand back.He walks away to their bedroom, and sleeps. She turns off the light, and sits up. He's asleep. She lost sleep. She regrets treating him the way she treated him.She cried again, and thought about a lot of things. She wants to wake him up. She wants to have a talk with him. She doesn't want to push him anymore. She stares at his pocket. She wants to see how the girl looks.

She slips the photo out. She wanted to cry and she wanted to laugh.It's a nicely taken photo. A photo he took for her. She bends down, and smiled her gloomy face off.He smiled. He was just pretending to be asleep.He tells her,"You learn to love, not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly."

Heartbreaking,unfortunate story

One fine day, an old couple around the age of 70, walks into a lawyer's office. Apparently, they are there to file a divorce.

Lawyer was very puzzled, after having a chat with them, he got their story.... This couple had been quarreling all their 40 over yrs of marriage nothing ever seems to go right.

They hang on because of their children, afraid that it might affect their up-bringing. Now, all their children have already grown up, have their own family, there's nothing else the old couple have to worry about, all they wanted is to lead their own life free from all these years of unhappiness from their marriage, so both agree on a divorce....

Lawyer was having a hard time trying to get the papers done, because he felt that after 40 yrs of marriage at the age of 70, he couldnt understand why the old couple would still want a divorce.While they were signing the papers, the wife told the husband.
"I really love u, but i really cant carry on anymore, I'm sorry.."
"Its o.k, i understand.." said the husband. Lookin at this, the lawyer suggested a dinner together, just 3 of them,wife thought, why not, since they are still gonna be friends.

At the dining table, there was a silence of awkardness. The first dish was roasted chicken, immediately, the old man took the drumstick for the old lady.."take this, its your favourite.."Looking at this, the lawyer thought maybe theres still a chance, but the wife was frowning when she answer.."

This is always the problem, you always think so highly of yourself, never thought about how I feel, dont you know that i hate drumsticks?"Little did she know that, over the years, the husband have been trying all ways to please her, little did she know that drumsticks was the husband's favourite. Little did he know that she never thought he understand her at all, little did he know that she hates drummsticks even though all he wants is the best for her.

That night, both of them couldnt sleep, tossed and turned, tossed and turned...after hours, the old man couldn't take it anymore, he knows that  he cant carry on life without her.
He picks up the phone, starting dialing her number....ringing never stops..he never stop dialing.On the other side, she was sad, she couldn’t understand how come after all these years, he still doesnt understand her at all, she loves him a lot, but she just cant take it anymore....phone's ringing, she refuses to answer knowing that its him..."whats the point of talking now that its over...i have asked for it and now i wanna keep it this way."she thought...still ringing...she decided to pull out the cord.

Little did she remember, he had heart problems.The next day, she received news that he had passed away...she rushed down to his apartment, saw his body, lying on the couch still holding on to the phone...he had a heart attack when he was still trying to get through her phone line.As sad as she could be...she had to clear his belongings...when she was looking thru the drawers, she saw this insurance policy, dated from the day they got married, with the beneficiary being her... And together in those file, there was this note...

"To my dearest wife, by the time you're reading this, I'm sure I'm no longer around, I bought this policy for you, though the amount is only Ksh50billion, I hope it will be able to help me continue my promise that i have made when we got married, I might not be around anymore, I want this amount of money to continue taking care of you, just like the way I will if I could have lived longer. I want you to know Iwill always be around, by your side.You are truly a proverbs 31 wife".

Tears flowed like river......

Story of her life

The wind had stopped. Now there was silence, and as the ash settled I saw what had happened.
Every trace - every little trace of the place was gone, exploded into nothingness. And for a moment in that dazed silence, with no sound apart from the ringing in my ears, and this ambiance in the air, I felt new again.

That place was gone, but I wasn’t. I wept.

And at that moment I looked towards the heavens. I don’t know what made me do it, but I almost knew something was being given to me. A piece of paper it seemed, floating, whimsically floating down towards the earth, dancing, and then settling so softly down on the ash covered ground. I picked it up and blew.

A photograph. A beautiful windy day. A teenage boy and girl - a couple for sure. I remember  as if from another lifetime. The teenager was my best friend - my significant other. The other child, the younger face was my own. I turned the picture over, and on the yellowed paper was written October 1950. I turned it over again and as I did so the memory flooded back to me like water filling a pond, and I was overwhelmed.
That day we were at his mother's house, she was in the house to the side of the picture, she’d made "mokimo". Who took the picture? I don’t remember.

I was happy that day. I was the happiest I had ever been. During that time of my life, like no other, I was absolutely content. And I believe I took a picture in my heart. But, over the years I was robbed of that beauty and innocence. It was stolen and replaced with anguish and gloom.

But now the fields are gone. And with the ash that floated down from the heavens I was returned what was mine.

The wind blew again and for an odd reason, I let the decaying piece of paper go with it and released myself from this place - from these memories.These memories that mean everything in the grand scheme. These are the blueprints of my happiness.

That photograph showed me something: By letting it go it all gets done. That unfulfilled desires are good in the big plan - they let us remember but help us forget.

A moment

It’s all in the moments, don’t you think? Those vulnerable moments when consciously or unconsciously we decide to open ourselves up. We decide to show how insane we are, how sensitive we can get and what weird skeletons we carefully burry in our hearts.

That moment is without doubt a very critical moment in any association...when tears emerge, wounds are cut open. Most of us are wise enough to not show the scars to everyone. We choose you because we think you are special. We choose you because we think you will mask the pain away. We choose you because we think you are capable of hiding our sins and appreciate us for who we truly are.

I have been on both ends of the spectrum—being the quiet listener and the one with the lump in the throat.

The road parts in two opposite directions once the lump is subsided. You either destroy the little of a relationship you had with the talker or you make it stronger. I suppose it all comes down to listening. If a person listens he cares, if he cares he will definitely stick around. If someone can’t listen to you, no matter what he claims he could do, chances are it’s not worth it, don’t you think?

I want to listen. I try to listen. I have learned that there are times when I need to shut up and just listen—listen and not interrupt. Believe me, you won't be able to communicate with someone without the art of listening—in that one moment of trust.

And it is almost always about that ONE moment… if it passes, it would not come back. If you are distracted, you wouldn’t hear it again. Sometimes, just missing that one moment keeps us at a distance from the person we love for the rest of our lives or even makes us loose a friend in dire need of that one human sense

Are you listening?

Half the world.....

Half the world lives,
Half the world makes,
Half the world gives
While the other half takes.

Half the world hates,
Half the world runs away,
Half the world's late,
Half the world praises the day.

Half the world is,
Half the world was,
Half the world thinks,
Half the world does.

Half the world lies,
Half the world burns,
Half the world cries
While the other half turns.

Half the world cares,
Half the world weeps,
Half the world shares,
Half the world keeps.

Half the world sings,
Half the world laughs,
Half the world brings,
Half the world tries to be the other half.

If it were not for you......,you are my miracle.

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling.

They find out that the new baby is going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sings to his sister in Mommy's tummy.
The pregnancy progresses normally for Karen, an active member of the Methodist Church. Then the labor pains come. Every five minutes, every minute. But complications arise during delivery. Hours of labor. Would a C-section be required?

Finally, Michael's little sister is born. But she is in serious condition. With siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital. The days inch by. The little girl gets worse. The pediatric specialist tells the parents, "There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst."

Karen and her husband contact a local cemetery about a burial plot. They have fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby now they plan a funeral. Michael, keeps begging his parents to let him see his sister, "I want to sing to her," he says.

Week two in intensive care. It looks as if a funeral will come before the week is over. Michael keeps nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. But Karen makes up her mind. She will take Michael whether they like it or not. If he doesn't see his sister now, he may never see her alive.

She dresses him in an oversized scrub suit and marches him into ICU. He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognizes him as a child and bellows, "Get that kid out of here now! No children are allowed. The mother rises up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glares steel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line.

"He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!"
Karen tows Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazes at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sings:

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray..."

Instantly the baby girl responds. The pulse rate becomes calm and steady.
Keep on singing, Michael.

"You never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don't take my sunshine away..."
The ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten's purr.
Keep on singing, Michael.

"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..."

Michael's little sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her.
Keep on singing, Michael.
Tears conquer the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't, take my sunshine away."
Funeral plans are scrapped. The next day, the very next day, the little girl is well enough to go home! Standard magazine called it "the miracle of a brother's song." The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God's love!
Never give up on the people you love.

What happens to a dream deffered?

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

I taught myself to live simply

I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
and to wander long before evening
to tire my superfluous worries.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravine
and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops
I compose happy verses
about life's decay, decay and beauty.
I come back. The fluffy cat
licks my palm, purrs so sweetly
and the fire flares bright
on the saw-mill turret by the lake.
Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof
occasionally breaks the silence.
If you knock on my door
I may not even hear.

The seedling broke but she waits..

She planted the seed and waited. After a while rain came down from the sky, pelting her skin, chilling her. She shivered but didn't leave, not yet.
The sun came out, warming the soil, driving the cold from her bones. She waited. Clouds scudded by overhead, in a hurry for some reason. The moon rose, stars wheeled, and then the sun rose again.

She didn't just wait, of course. She prayed, she sang, she read the old stories, the myths and the legends. On the seventh day she snoozed under a cloudless sky, waking only briefly when a dragonfly happened to touch down on her nose. She observed its cathedral-window wings, irridescent with refracted sunlight, and drowsed once more after it left her.

Rain, sun, moon, stars: she endured them all. The seedling broke the soil with a questing green curlicue, looking for all the world like a question mark in the Old Tongue. She sat on it and waited more: days, months, decades.

A boy came along and asked her why she'd climbed to the top of the tree.
"I didn't," she said.

Android or human ?

Sitting in her brightly lit, sparsely but tastefully decorated room, Rachel  studied her client's defense brief with a sinking heart.
This case would make or break her and she saw no way of winning this one.
She had lost her previous three cases consecutively.
"Win this one or you are out," her boss, Mr. Tyle of Law Agency, had stated flatly. It seemed to her that Mr. Tyle had taken a dislike to her and that was why she had been saddled with this tough case.
The sound of her parents' unfettered, unaffected burst of laughter pulled her out of her doldrums. They were probably watching some sit-com.

When I get married, will I be lucky enough to have the easy camaraderie and zest for life that mom and dad have at this age? Rachel thought. Her affectionate thoughts immediately turned to Robert, her fiance. Robert worked in the police force. He was good, so good that she had been on cloud nine when he had proposed to her couple of weeks ago. They were going to be married in two month's time.
The rustle of the file in her hands brought her attention back to the case.

Her client, a young woman called Sarah, would be facing a first degree murder charge in the court the next day. She was being tried for the murder of her husband, Robert . The prosecution had rested their case. It was now all up to Rachel.
Based on her client's file and her various interviews with her client, she was forced to admit that all the facts of the case so far were totally against her client. The prosecution had not even offered her a plea bargain.
Sarah's husband had been stabbed in his sitting room. It was established in the court that she had been the only person present in the room with her husband at the time of his death. Their next door neighbor, a Mr. Hamilton, had heard her scream and had come running to find her standing over her husband's body holding the murder weapon - a bloodied knife - in her hand. Mr. Miller had called the police who had subsequently arrested Sarah for the murder of her husband.

As Rachel reviewed the facts, she found no way to get her client off. And yet, she was certain of her client's innocence. The candor of her denial of the murder may not have convinced anyone else but it had convinced Rachel.

She felt balked. She absently looked out of her window into the night. The window of her room overlooked a fenced and beautifully cultivated lawn which was now illuminated by the street light. The weather outside was pleasant, but it made no impression on Rachel. The case now occupied her mind totally.
Rachel re-read for the umpteenth time the notes she had made of her last interview with Sarah, the day before.

As she read, her mind supplied the background.
When Sarah, in her rumpled and creased prison uniform, was brought into the interview room under police escort, she had looked miserable and confused. Rachel's heart had gone out to her.
"Did you kill your husband?" Rachel asked point blank.
"No." There was no inflection of any sort in Sarah's voice.
"Then why was the murder weapon in your hands?"
"I had heard angry words being exchanged between my husband and our neighbor, Mr Hamilton, who was visiting us. Then I heard my husband scream. I came in to investigate and saw my husband lying with a knife in his chest. I pulled it out to see if I could do anything to save him." Sarah said. "I am a trained nurse, you know."
"Weren't you afraid that touching the murder weapon would implicate you?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I never thought that anyone would doubt the truth of my words."
Was Sarah really that naive?

"It has been established that there was no one in the house at the time of murder except you and your husband. Mr. Miller has testified under oath that he entered your house only when he heard your husband's scream. What do you have to say to that?"
"He is lying," Sarah said with utter conviction.
"Why would he do that?"
"Because he killed my husband."
Rachel's heart sank. They were going in circles. Even if Sarah was telling the truth and somehow, against all odds, Rachel believed that she was - there was no way she could prove it before the court. She was going to lose this case and lose her job. More important, she would not be able to save her client.

"Do you have any proof of what you say?" She continued in spite of her sense of futility.
"Except for my word, no."
"Why would he kill your husband? You said angry words were exchanged between them. What were they fighting about?"
"Mr. Hamilton had tried to make advances at me. I told my husband and when Mr. Hamilton came visiting, my husband confronted him about it. Mr. Hamilton must have been carrying a knife with him."
"Only your finger prints were found on the knife and not Mr. Hamilton. Why?"
"Mr. Hamilton's hands had been disfigured in an accident, so he wears gloves most of the time."
Prisons depressed Rachel. She had left as soon as she could.
Rachel closed the transcript, sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. What was it about the testimony that disturbed her?

Rachel, in her several meetings with Sarah, had found that Sarah was an unusual woman - open, honest, considerate, friendly and calm even as she faced the murder charge. She still could not imagine Sarah hurting anyone, let alone murdering her husband. Rachel wondered at her conviction of Sarah's innocence. What made her so sure? The answer lurked just around the corner of her conscience. If only she could find it.
I never thought that anyone would doubt the truth of my words.

Sarah's words rang in her ears. What a strange statement! She opened her eyes and sat up straight.
Could it be. No! That was not possible. Yes! It was possible. Yes, and that could be her defense. She sat motionless for several minutes, thinking, thinking.
The next morning at half past nine, Rachel parked her blue Honda Accord in its designated place at the parking lot and made her way to the courthouse, carefully avoiding some protestors carrying "Ban Androids" banners.
What did these people have against androids, Rachel wondered. A strange analogy burst upon awareness. Angels were supposed to beings without the capacity for sin. The androids were angels, man-made angels.
I wish people could be more like androids, she thought, totally sane, totally considerate.

She thought of Robert again - always cool, calm and considerate - and smiled. Yes, indeed. She was lucky. Just thinking about him seemed to drain some of her courtroom tension out of her system.
It was a bright summer day and the old stone building of the court house, squat and vast, sprawled in the sunlight like an anachronism amidst the modern utilitarian and high rise architecture laced with sky walks and sky rails.
The courthouse was an anachronism in more than one way. It was one of the very few institutions that carried its business in the cyber age as it had done in the last few centuries.
The courtroom was almost full. The trial seemed to have gained quite a lot of publicity. Ghouls, she thought. She knew that most of the spectators were convinced of Sarah's guilt and were following the case to see if the jury would award her the death penalty. They are in for a surprise, she thought grimly, if I can help it.
Rachel drew several appreciative glances from the male population of the courtroom. She did present a pleasing appearance with her face intelligent and open face, devoid of heavy make-up, was fresh and attractive, with long, velvet,black colored hair tied in a ponytail.
At twenty four, Rachel  was one of the youngest and one of the better known legal counsels in the country. Even while she was an intern two years ago, she had made a name for herself in the famous "Robots" case. Though the major part of the work was done by her senior, Mr. Hiswell, her successful appellate argument played its part in making the testimony of robots and androids admissible in country's judiciary system.
Prosecutor Julian Hemple was at his place, and looked up when Rachel entered. He smiled at her smugly, sure of his victory. Rachel sweetly smiled back at him.
"What's she got to smile about?" whispered young William, Hemple's assistant.
Julian shrugged.
"You think she's going to pull a rabbit out of her hat?"
"Fat chance," said Hemple. "You are reading too many of those ancient Perry Mason courtroom thrillers."
All the people related to the case were present in the court. Sarah's neighbor Hamilton Miller was there and so was his wife. The police constable who had arrested Sarah was there. But Rachel had eyes only for her client.
The defendant, Sarah, was at her place. She smiled at Rachel as Rachel sat down beside her. Rachel whispered something to her. Her mouth dropped open.
"How did you guess?" she whispered.
It was now Rachel's turn to be stunned. Her wild hunch had turned out to be true. Her mind raced through the steps she must now take. She was still not sure of her success. Her one consolation was that Judge Jonas was an intelligent and reasonable man.

"Why didn't you tell me until now?" Rachel was furious.
"I had promised my husband never to reveal this fact to anyone."
Just then everybody stood up as Judge Jonas entered the court and took his seat. He was followed by the traditional twelve jurors, six men and six women from different age groups and different social and professional backgrounds.

"Court is now in session," Judge Jonas declared.
Rachel rose from her seat. "Your Honor, if the court please, the defense requests a continuation."
"Objection," snapped Julian.
The judge looked first at Rachel and then at Julian.
"Would both the counsel approach the bench?"
Rachel and Julian approached the bench.
"Why does the defense require extra time?"
"Some new developments have come up, your honor, which make it very imperative for us to have some extra time."

"That's all nonsense, and the defense counsel knows it too," snorted Julian. "This is just an unnecessary delaying tactic on the part of the defense."
"The prosecuting counsel has no right to measure everyone by his own standards," she said, smiling sweetly.
"I do not tolerate personal attacks in my court," Judge Jonas's tone was firm. Then he turned to Rachel.
"How much time do you require?"
"Just two hours, Your Honor."

"The court sees no problem in acceding to this request. The court will recess for two hours and will recommence at noon." He gathered his robes and gracefully swept out of the courtroom.
Prosecutor Julian was forty five, tall and quite distinguished looking, with a receding hairline.
 Jonas firmly believed in the guilt of Sarah. He would believe in the guilt of any wife implicated in the murder of her husband. Two years back, Julian  had lost his faith in women. Two years back, his wife had left him for a multi-millionaire businessman. And she had taken their only daughter with her.
This case was particularly important to him because it involved not one but two women: Sarah  and her attorney, Rachel. By having a guilty verdict brought against Sarah Breme, he would be getting back at two women with one fell swoop.

He could already feel the taste of victory on his tongue. It was an open and shut case. So he waited impatiently.
At noon, the court recommenced. Rachel waived her opening statement.
"As our first and only witness," she declared, "I call Dr. James  to the witness stand."
"Who is this James and where does he come into the case?" Julian  whispered to William .
"I don't know."
"Find out fast."
"You think this is the rabbit?"
"Just go." William left the court.
"Objection," roared Hemple. "This witness has not been disclosed by the counsel."
Rachel calmly flipped a Westlaw printout onto the prosecutor's table. She then approached the bench and handed a copy to the judge.
"Judge," she said, "in the case of Barel vs Martin, decided last year, the federal 9th circuit held that in special circumstances defendants can introduced undisclosed witnesses."
The judge skimmed the printout, running a long finger over its words, occasionally nodding.
"Counsel," he said to the prosecutor, "Ms Rachel appears to be correct on that point. I am going to allow the witness unless you think the cited decision can be distinguished somehow from the facts in this case."
"Your honor, I am aware of the precedent, but it is our position that it does not apply here as there are no special circumstances here."
"Your honor, I undertake to prove the special circumstances through the testimony of this witness."
"Objection overruled. Proceed with your witness."
Dr. James took the stand. In his right hand he carried a small camera-like gadget.
"Dr. James, would you please tell the court about your field of expertise? began Rachel.
"I am a robotics engineer."
"Would you please elaborate on that?"
"I build robots and androids."
"And you are an expert in the field?"
"My peers think so."
"What is that gadget that you have in your hand?"
"This is called an android identifier."
"What do you use it for?"
"Objection, your honor," said Julian. "This line of questioning is irrelevant to the case."
The Judge looked at Rachel.
"I think the prosecuting counsel is right. Unless you can give some good reason for this line of questioning, I will sustain the objection."
"Your honor, if you please, I will show the relevance within a few minutes."
"Under that stipulation, I will allow you to continue with your questioning."
"Thank you, your honor." She turned to Dr. James. "As I was asking, Dr. James, what do you use your gadget for?"
"I use it to test a person and find out if that person is an android or a normal human being."
"How does it work?"
"As you probably know, all androids have identity microchips embedded in their foreheads. No android can function without these microchips. This gadget detects the presence of the microchips, and records the data found on them."
"What necessitated the designing of such gadgets?"
"No one knows why this is so, but it is a fact that sometimes some androids try to pose as human beings."
"Do all androids have the identify microchip embedded in their foreheads?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"With the development of tissue culture and DNA technology and with its use in robotics, it became possible to design robots that could pass for human beings in any physical or psychological test. These chips were designed so that the androids could be distinguished from human beings."
"Is it possible for an android to remove this microchip in order to avoid identification?"
"No. The androids are designed such that with the removal of the microchip all their bodily functions would cease and they would be dead in effect."
Rachel could have cut her questions short. At this point she was asking questions that would be asked by the prosecutor in his cross examination. She was fully intent not to leave the prosecution any ground for cross examination.
She continued: "Suppose a human being gets this chip embedded in his or her forehead. Can he or she get away posing as an android?"
"Not with this gadget, no." Dr.James patted the machine affectionately. "There is a setting on this gadget that would make an android immobile. I would think it would be very difficult for a human being to fake total immobility for any length of time. Then there are several other considerations, too. How would a person know when to fake immobility if I were to select the immobility settings surreptuously?"
"In short, you as an expert in your field, state that using this gadget you can conclusively and irrefutably identify an android from a human being?"
"Yes. I would stake my reputation on it."
"Did you recently test anyone with that gadget?"
"Yes."
"When was this?"
"An hour ago."
"Who were present at the time of testing beside yourself and the person who was being tested?"
"The chief of police and two constables were present at the time of testing."
"And what did you find?"
"I found that the person I tested was indeed an android posing as a human being."
"Do you see that person in this courtroom?"
"Yes."
"Who is it?"

Dr. James raised his hand and pointed. "It is the defendant, Sarah. She is an android."
Pandemonium. Julian's face went pale. He knew he was beaten. He thought of putting up a show of cross examination but gave the idea up as futile.
Another person whose face changed color was Hamilton, Sarah's neighbor. If it had been an earlier century, Hamilton would have tried to bolt but in this age of electronic currency, there was no way he could live without using his credit card or his ID, and the moment he used one of them, he would be traced and arrested. Escape was futile. He accepted the inevitable and waited.
After the dust settled down, the jury returned with a verdict of not guilty for Sarah, mildly admonishing her for her masquerade.

Judge Jonas summed up the case.
"After establishing beyond doubt the fact that the defendant Sarah was actually an android, the court accepts her testimony as the whole truth because it is well known that androids cannot lie. In view of her testimony, she is declared not guilty. On the other hand, the court instructs the Prosecutor's office to have Mr. Hamilton arrested and tried for the murder of Mr. Robert ." The judge paused. "And Sarah is instructed never to masquerade as a human being in future." He paused and then added off the record: "What the hell do you get out of it, anyway?"

That night, Rachel had a disturbed sleep. She woke up in the middle of the night with a sneaking suspicion biting her insides. Should she use Dr.James android identifier on Robert?

DIVORCE..

"Marriages are made in heaven", I remembered her answer which sounded on a serious note to my blithe ignorant question seeking a reason why she had decided to marry me! Her answer had connected our hearts in less than a moment and we were no strangers anymore. I knew that she was going to be a good wife.

That was the beginning of a budding relationship.

But that was years back. Just as the events of the present day case proceedings in the court of law, her reply had moved me from the bottom of my heart. Whosoever made marriages; but I was pretty certain that divorces were man made, I thought as the jury signed the verdict. We were quite sure that this, one last journey was going to put an end to the chaos happening in our lives over the past three years. Right since we had started our journey from the district court, I was looking at her face intermittently. It was drizzling steadily on the dusky city street and she just kept on staring outside the window of the car. I was clueless about what mingled in her head, but something ensured my weary mind that the final verdict of granting us a divorce must have relieved her - in fact us both.

I noticed that she was continually ignoring my presence in the car, rather trying to divagate from the collective memories we had created over the past few years. Her reticence inspired me to not utter a word. It was a hard fact that we had now officially given up the rights over each other. This was something that was hard for me to sustain. I was constantly making futile attempts to see some similar emotions on her face that imitated my mind. But more than anything else, it was her silence that was killing me to death at the moment. How can she be so stubborn? I kept on thinking...

"So, will you marry some other man?", I asked her as I burst away the silence which was almost deafening me.

I knew that was such a stupid question but it was starting a conversation that was gaining my priority at the moment. She looked back at me in despair. I slowed down the car over the left as I let overtake a speedy car over my right. This is something I always hated to do.

I noticed that she had decided not to answer my question. I realized that it was none of my business anymore and took a different turn away from home.

"Where are you taking the car?", she asked me desperately. Ultimately, I felt happy to have been successful in stealing away some words from her mouth.

I kept on driving for a few minutes and stopped at a water pool. It was a lush green park with a huge rocky mountain in the backyard which was beautifully dressed by the weeds of the September rains. The place wasn't unfamiliar to either of us. In fact, it was this place where our journey had begun and our relationship had blossomed. We knew that recollecting the sheer number of evenings we had spent together, in this park, weaving our futures was never so easy.

I asked her to get down and parked the vehicle by the road.

"I would like you to end it here", I said as I stood in front of her, meekly.

She looked straight into my eyes. I observed that my words had hit her hard within. Apparently, a couple of tear drops secretly left her black beautiful eyes - the ones which were once only mine.

"Do you think, signing a couple of documents will erase it all?", she asked in a low tone.

I shrugged.

"I just can't imagine...", I murmured and was unable to speak any further.

Moments passed away like ages as we stood there like two lost strangers waiting for nothing. The beautiful evening was gradually gulped away by the darkness of the fast approaching night.

"Beep...beep..$#.beep...$...beep..#" A sudden ring from my cell phone brought me back to my senses.

Was that a dream? I tried hard to think in my current state of trance. I opened my eyes and had a glimpse of her face  staring at me. She was looking at me in amazement and I ensured myself of my return from a different world.

"What are you talking about?", she asked in a firm voice.

"Woah! Was I? Just a bad dream Petsa", I said as I looked back at her.
I was wondering about what I might have muttered in my sleep.

"Did you hear me speak?", I asked her in my attempt to evade any embarrassment.

"Not really", she said as she smiled.

Momentarily, the smile on her lips had faded away.

"Did you dream about a divorce because of the paltry quarrel we had last night?", she asked gravely.

I looked at her, spellbound.

I had no feeling to express; no other gesture to show than giving her a big hug.

At times all it takes is a leap of faith to create faith

He watched as the evening sun dealt its oblique rays on to the transgressed shore. The waves crashed in hope to win back the mile they had lost to the thick boulders of the city. Under the heavy cloud of the city’s spirit and pollution, the panorama was breath taking, literally.

He was long used to the choke and wicked whispers of this city built by Britannia and concrete. The bridges that seemed to connect, also cut through the arteries and brought to an end the tracks left by the last generation. Anachronistic cenotaphs to iconoclasts and sensationalists, served to remind anyone who would look- the origins of the parimutuel progress of the city’s neighbourhoods.

Today, he stood on the balcony with a railing painted black and potted plants hanging in proportional chains looking at the sunset, waiting for the right moment, to do what he wanted to do.

The sparrows, parrots and crows, flew in tight groups keeping shape, towards their distant homes, cemented into the souls of every growing area. The decadent heart, was slowly being to be troubled by the clandestine wheels, which clogged the cycles and caused the tired black cells to curse and honk their way to a place of hopeful quite and peace.

The city with its sundering cacophony was a furlong away from where he was- caught in the mesmerising magic of the sunset. The ravenous sun, which scorched hard on works and toils, was now bidding its adieu for a few hours. It first dipped behind the miranda glasses of an assurance company- he moved a couple steps and could see it again. It then hid behind the veils of a corporate- he again moved.
The sun now hung, on a few yards of open horizon, between the corporate and a newspaper company. It pressed on now, a few yards from the translucent waters of the sea. By now he was at the end of the balcony. To get a better view he climbed over the spiky railing and stood confident on the edge.
A crowd gathered below- reporters hoped to scavenge a scandal,  police to ponder a rescue and others out of abject curiosity. He saw the finally minuscule crimson dive- he jumped.

As the crowd rushed fast towards him, he heard them scream and could feel the din. He was a star- he was a son of the sun. When they noticed who he was, the crowd was stupefied and a wail hung over.

The implications- the heir to the horizon of bridges had leapt over a rail! The parks laden with waste newspapers, airport with incomplete hangers! The shock. Who would bear the riots and rage of the malevolent men?

But their worst fears failed to come alive. He hung on from a shock cord. The sun after all never dies- it sets, only to returns to arise and awake.
The crowd noticed he wasn’t who they supposed. Neither was he a bud with two leaves – he was a someone, who they never knew was there.

Sometimes all it takes is a leap to create faith.

Jeremy Camp - There Will Be A Day ~ AL (Annotated Lyrics)

Whats your special moment in life?

• Getting out of bed every morning and thanking God for another beautiful day.
•  Laughing so hard your face hurts.
• A hot shower
• A special glance.
• Getting mail from a long lost friend.
• Taking a drive on a scenic road with no potholes.
• Hearing your favorite song on the radio.
• Lying in bed listening to the rain outside
• Finding the sweater you want is on sale for half price
• A long distance phone call
• Giggling.
• A good conversation.
• Finding a 100 shillings in your coat from last year.
• Laughing at yourself.
• Midnight phone calls that last for hours after service providers decide to be generous
• Laughing for absolutely no reason at all.
• Having someone tell you that you're a blessing.
• Laughing at an inside joke.
• Friends.
• Accidentally overhearing someone say something nice about you.
• Waking up and realizing you still have a few hours left to sleep.
• Making new friends or spending time with old ones.
• Playing with your favorite doll that you wouldn't trade anything for the world.
• Late night talks with your roommate.
• Having mum play with your hair.
• Sweet dreams.
• Chit chat with friends.
• Song lyrics printed inside your new CD so you can sing along without feeling stupid.
• Going to a really good concert.
• Hugging the person you treasure.
• Watching the expression someone's face as they open a much-desired present from you.
• Watching the sunrise.
• Falling in love.
•  

Eerie night.......

He took one deep breath before he closed the box. Carefully, he tucked it neatly inside his closet, under his clothes where his daughter will not find it.

It’s almost time. He drove her daughter to school, and after kissing her goodbye, he went straight to his office.

It was an ordinary day, just like the previous days – home, school, office, home.

He still could not understand though what compelled him to get that box from the store the other day.

That night over dinner, he was happily conversing with his daughter. Asking her how her day was, what she learned in school, as he also told her of his own day’s account.

That was how it has always been. They were happy… just the two of them. He couldn’t ask for more.

Or could he?

After dinner, a brief bonding moment over their favorite show on TV, and her daughter went off to bed. He was left alone in the living room, sitting on his favorite chair.

It was supposed to be an ordinary night… just like the other nights.

But that night, he felt he wasn’t alone. There was someone, rather something, that was there with him… taunting him.

It wasn’t the first time he felt it, but that night, the “something” seemed to be more intense… persistent… stubborn.

Then, he felt that “something” enveloped his very being… he wasn’t his own self anymore.

Standing up from his chair, he went straight to his closet where he kept the box. He picked it up and walked straight back to where his favorite chair was.

Passing by the door of his daughter’s room, he took a peek and saw an angel sleeping… calmly.

He went back to his chair and sat down.

Carefully, he opened the box… got hold of the thing inside it. The light that comes from the outside hit the silver object, making it shine amidst a dark room

Holding it in his hands, it felt cold.

Lifting it up, he observed it from end to end, front and back… he felt it beckoned.

Slowly, lifting it higher until the nozzle touched the side of head… closing his eyes, and without thinking….....

*BANG!*

Silence

Is it over?

And as he lay there on the floor… cold… swimming in his own blood… an angel sat beside him crying.

Why look for pain?

Why, as the world spins, do I stand?
Still as the leaves, when there is no wind,
Why does it hurt so much?
When everything you believe in, feels right,
Why am I falling?

When everything around me is rising with the sun,
Why look for pain?
When there is none,
Is heaven a place on Earth?
Or does it come from the heart,
Every breath I take, is another fire, burning up inside,
I know that sometimes the truth hurts, but don’t ever let it slide.

Am I the only one, who takes pride in the little things?
The colour of the sky at dawn,
The feeling, knowing you’ve got something to give,
Even though they spit in your fire,
The freedom to run the waves, whenever the time is right,
The joy, of taking pride in who you are,
Even though they try and scar,
The flame of the candle, dancing in the window pane,
You are fulfilled; you have nothing more to gain.
Is there another part of me?
A part I do not know,
Whatever the future holds, I cannot tell yet,
But I can now see the glow,
A shimmer of light,
A glimmer of hope,
In everything I do.

Feel every moment you live,
For you do not know,
When the sun will stop rising,
Become who you were born to be,
For everyone is here for a reason,
Discover the meaning of life,
You will know when you’ve found it,
The warm heart, and sound of tiny toes,
Pitt-pattering on the floor,
The sound of giggling and laughter,
Where there was none before.

Feel love, when you give,
Not only when you get,
I ask for one thing,
Don’t leave this world yet,
You have many more things to discover,
The light is upon you,
And remember…
You’re never alone.

Golden era of human race may then truly begin....

What is it that drives human will? Maybe this question has been asked before. Or maybe for some, this question is very naïve to ask. But there can be plenty of answers and the question is how do you decide which is the most important of all. By driving the human will, I mean providing the motivation to struggle against adversities, to hope when surrounded by dire circumstances and to fight for what one desires. This motivation, does it come from some ancestral instinct or is it acquired after birth in childhood years.
We can possibly classify the factors of this motivation into two broad categories; fear and want. Both stem out from basic survival instinct. Fear in a broader sense, as an instinct, teaches us to seek protection from that what might harm us. Be it beasts, storms or enemies. Fear then develops into many different types depending upon the situation. In the most primitive environment, the fear can be of a wild beast or a storm. In modern sense fear often stems not from direct objects or events but rather consequences of events. In simpler words modern day fear is about losing. Like fear of losing money or wealth, fear of losing loved ones or fear of losing power and status and so on. In some parts of the world fear for life is still very much a real phenomenon. Genocides, civil wars and terrorist acts continue to spill blood even in the civilized world.
Fear may be the driving factor in most of the cases. Especially in situations threatening status quo, may it be an extreme incident like natural disasters or riots and wars where actual existence is at stake. In such cases we find exceptional will power in most common people. The will to survive enables people endure worst suffering in hope that it will pass. Another type of circumstances may be less extreme in comparison but still can have a huge impact on an individual’s life. These may be serious in varying degrees. From losing one’s job to having a heartbreak, from facing public disgrace to losing wealth and status. And each individual will react differently and in different extent to each of these threats.
While fear drives most people to bring forth will power even they never knew hitherto existed, want drives people to draw on enormous strength and resolve to get what is desired. An entire gamut of emotions comes under the want category, from simple survival needs like food and water to natural instincts like  excesses that is greed, ambition and lust. Simple logic might suggest that more basic is the need, stronger the will to fulfill it. This is true in most of the cases. A person deprived of food might kill to eat. But there are many occasions when excesses like greed, luxury or lust drive people so hard that they tend to forget the difference between the right and wrong, giving rise to crimes like corruption, scams and rapes.
While we search for the answer to the question about what drives the human will, we also need to search for one more answer. How do we use this knowledge to mould and channelize human race from civilization to super-civilization, a mature society where peaceful co-existence and mutual co-operation are pillars of the social order?
Golden era of human race may then truly begin.

Despicable,deplorable.............

"No"

She had said just that. One word. It was so potent, so poisonous, it was eating his insides. He knew it was a lie. And he knew that she knew it.

"Don't you love me anymore?" He had asked.

"No."

That one word was enough to wipe away five years from his life. Those five years in which she had become an inevitable part of his life. He knew that her sacrifices in these five years far exceeded his. He only wished she had a little more patience. Now the things seemed to be changing. He was changing. He was no longer the idealistic and adamant young man that he had been. Age and agony had mellowed him down.

For five whole years she had supported him. They met at a bus stop on the day he had run away from his house. She had taken him in when they were strangers. She was staying alone and knew that her neighbours would react unfavourably to her letting in a young man. But she braved the opposition, fought the odds. Maybe she liked him from the first day she met him. As days went by she had fallen for his charm and his firebrand idealism.

She worked as a waitress in a hotel during the day and some nights sold her body to uncaring strangers in some cheap hotel room. He stayed at home all day, wrote poems and essays, went out and discussed politics with whoever he met. She didn't mind. She was deeply in love with him. He loved her too but he loved poetry too and literature and humanity and animals and environment and so the list was endless. She loved him.

First sparks appeared when he first slapped her. She wanted to go for a movie with her friends while he wanted her to stay home with her. "I am not your wife." She had said. His answer was a slap across her cheek. It was the first time they did not speak to each other for more than a day. That night for the first time since they met, she slept without him reading a poem to her. Next day their fight had ended. She could not bear to annoy him any longer. Nor could he. She admitted it. He did not.

"Why don't you take a job?" She had asked. It took her four years to ask this.
"Why?"
"So that I can stop selling my body. So that we can get married."
"Why do you want to get married?" he had asked. And did not understand then why her answer was only mute tearful eyes. Her look had made him feel guilty. But his idealism was still alive.

After that day, almost every day was the same. Everyday till today.He found his bags on the doorstep when he returned from a stroll. Through closed doors he had asked "Don't you love me anymore?"

"No."

I'm sorry ,Jonathan

“Good morning, honey! Did you sleep well?” I asked Jonathan as he enters the kitchen.

“I don’t know Mom,” he replied, rubbing his eyes, “what’s for breakfast?” and seated himself on the table.

“Here you go honey, pancakes for you… soft and fluffy, just the way you like them,” as I plant a big morning kiss on my 6-year old boy. “and of course, your favorite chocolate syrup for your pancake.”

“Thanks mom! You’re really the best!” he enthusiastically replied, and gave me a big hug.

R-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-i-n-g!

It only took one ring from the telephone to bring me back to reality, where I found myself alone in the kitchen… with no Jonathan around

R-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-i-n-g! R-r-i-i-i-n-g!

My coffee have gone cold, I wasn’t even able to take a sip, I was busy thinking

R-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-i-n-g! R-r-i-i-i-n-g!

I was not really in a hurry to answer the phone

R-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-i-n-g! R-r-i-i-i-n-g!

Maybe because I knew that it’s my mother, who consistently calls every morning to check how I was and maybe to find out if I made it through the night.

R-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-i-n-g! R-r-i-i-i-n-g!

Finally, I stood and picked up the phone, “Hi Mom!”

“Liza!” said the voice on the other line, “why can’t you answer the phone immediately? I know, don’t tell me, you’re thinking about Jonathan again, right?” my mother asked

I was silent… I didn’t reply

“It’s been six years already, why can’t you let go? There’s nothing more you can do now.”

“I know mom,” tears started running down my cheeks, “I’m trying my best mom, I do.”

“Oh, I’m sorry sweetie. I didn’t mean to be too harsh on you… I’m just worried. You want me to go there?”

“No mom, I’m just fine really. I understand you mom, and I appreciate it. Thank you very much mom. I really have to go now, talk to you later mom. Bye! I love you.”

“Bye sweetie! Take care of yourself now, I love you.”

I got my coat and went to the park… maybe some fresh air would do me good.

Seating on a park bench and taking a sip on my coffee, a ball rolled near my feet, followed by a cute little girl who picked it up, “Good morning little Becky! What a beautiful dress you’re wearing today! Are you having fun in the park?”

“Hi Miss Liza! I’m sorry if my ball disturbed you, I hope you’re not mad.”

“Oh, you sweet little thing, how thoughtful of you. Of course I’m not mad. You’re really a sweet girl, my Jonathan would have loved to play with you”

“So where is Jonathan? I’ve been hearing his name but I haven’t seen him yet,” she asked.

I was searching for words, I didn’t know what to answer the little girl.

Just then, Becky’s mother approached us and pulled her, she pointed to me and said, “Don’t you ever talk to my girl about your Jonathan again, I don’t want her to have anything of it, you understand?!”

“Hey sweetheart, chill! Liza didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t be too hard on her.” That’s George, Becky’s father

“I’m sick and tired of all this Jonathan talk, it’s not normal anymore. You should see a doctor girl, A-S-A-P!” Valerie, Becky’s mother, said to me.

“She just miss him honey, let her be”

“She brought it upon herself, George! She’s at fault! She deserved all this!” yelled Valerie

“You know,” said George, “as a mother like her, you should be the first one to understand her”

“She was NEVER a mother!” she quipped

That’s all I can take. I stood up and run as I was silently crying… everything that Valerie said was true… everything!

I run, not knowing where to go… not knowing what to do… and because I wasn’t looking, I bumped into another person….

“I knew I’d find you here,” said a man’s voice who helped me pick myself up after the collision.

“YOU! Get your hands off me!” I shouted when I recognized the face of the man. It’s Vinz, Jonathan’s father… rather, supposed-to-be father.

I met Vinz when I was still a gullible 18-year old, he was 22 then.

Vinz was everything I was looking for in a man – in command, full of confidence, tough and yet does not hesitate showing his softness through his sweetness. He showered me with love, caring, tenderness… I thought it would not end.

I loved him so much, our relationship lasted for almost two years… until I excitedly surprised him with the news that I was pregnant… but I was more shocked by his revelation.

“I’m really sorry Liza, I’m excited and all about our baby… but I can’t marry you… I am already married.”

I didn’t know how I reacted, or if I even replied or asked questions… I don’t remember anything… everything went blank… I can’t even recall how we parted ways… all I can remember is that, it was the last time I saw him.

Now, after six years, here he is again… standing in front of me…

“I miss you Liza. I’ve been looking for you. Where’s our child? He must be big now, is he?” he excitedly asked.

“You don’t have a child! You don’t have anything! How dare you show your face to me again! Get out of here! You ruined my life! I don’t want to see you again!”

“Please, let me explain Liza… I just went home to…”

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say Vinz…. I don’t want to see you again…” and when I got loose from his grip, I run again… faster this time…

“Liza! I came back for you… my wife, I mean my ex-wife and I are now legally separated… Liza… please…” Vinz was shouting… but I didn’t hear any of it. I was busy running, my mind was spinning… I’m lost, I don’t know what to do… I was confused, I just kept on running

I found myself standing in front of my mother. She was holding back her tears as she opens her arms and gestures for me to come to her.

“Mom…” I said, as I hug her like I was the baby that I used to be…

“Sshhh…” she said, “you’ve been having a bad day, sweetie.” She hugged me back, I miss my mother’s embrace… it was the most comforting place in the world, inside my mother’s arms.

“Come, let’s go to your room so you can rest.”

That night, I was back in the same room that I grew up in… the same bed I was sleeping in six years ago until I decided to be stupid and run away from home. I was scared to tell them I was pregnant… that’s when I went to Aunt Emmy, who took take care of me while I was still deciding on what to do with my baby.

“Mom…” I called her, she was seated on a chair beside the bed, just watching me, “mom, I’m really sorry…”

“Sshhh… don’t worry about anything sweetie… you need to sleep. I know you’re very tired. Go to sleep now honey… you’re home,” and she kissed me in the forehead… and just like that, I was peaceful again…

I don’t know how long I have been sleeping when I heard a voice call me,

“Mommy”

“Jonathan, is that you?” I asked. I looked around but I can’t see a thing. Everything was dark.

“I love you mommy,” said the voice of a boy.

“I love you too Jonathan, I do my son, I do”

“LIAR! You don’t love me, you NEVER love me!” he accused me.

“But I do, I really love you Jonathan, please believe me”

“Why didn’t you give me a chance to feel that love mommy? Why didn’t you give me a chance to hold you… to touch you… to embrace you… to love you… to see you. Why didn’t you let me live mommy? You said you love me… but why mommy? Why?”

“I’m sorry Jonathan… I’m really sorry… I was confused… I didn’t know what to do, I was alone… I’m sorry Jona…” was all I can say while I was crying

“I love you mommy… I love you… I love…” he was saying, as his voice was slowly fading…

“I love you too my son… I’m really sorry… I’m sorry Jona…

My soul wasn't the devil

*woop*

There I was standing in front of him as he is seated on his throne, sizing me up with his baleful stare before he spoke to me, “And what are you going to give me if I grant you this wish of power, fame and fortune?”

“M—m—my…my soul?” *gulp* I replied hesitantly

“Your soul!!! YOUR SOUL?!!! Bwahahahaha! You’re offering me your soul! Bwahahaha!” the prince of darkness said in a rather sarcastic tone

“Ahehe… yes… my soul… hehe…”

“And why do you think I would want your soul?!” he asked, as he stood from his throne and walks toward where I stand

“Bu—but isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? I make a wish and in return I promise to give you my soul when I die?” I asked him

“Bwahahaha!” he now stands towering over me, “Bwahaha! Listen kid, either you’re watching too much fiction or you bumped your head on way down here.”

“Eh?” was my puzzled reply

“In these times, I would hardly lift a finger to get anybody’s soul. Souls are a dime-a-dozen today kid! Everybody’s very much willing to give their soul to the devil, and they are not even aware of it.”

By now, I don’t know if I’m puzzled, I’m nervous or I just want to get out of there

“People have sex, and they call it love. It doesn’t matter if they are not married or one of them is married, all they know is that they are in love and there’s nothing wrong with being in love, right? That is why they keep on doing it, all because love justified their lust.”

“but…” I started to speak…

“Oh, don’t butt in yet, I’m just starting…” he continued, “look at the progress that is happening around… new bridges, roads, schools, buildings – development! Who doesn’t love progress? But every time a new bridge is built, a new building erected or roadways developed, I get more souls, all because the powers-that-be were just getting their ‘fair share.’ I believe that’s what they call in your world S.O.P., and THEY ACTUALLY BELIEVE IT’S OKAY!”

He continued to speak as he walks slowly around me

“Aahh… technology, I’ve never had an able assistant since the dawn of the Internet. And I’m not even referring to those surfing on porn sites and watching nude photos online, those were given, hardly any challenge there. But I’m referring to those very cunning social media. Thanks to them, people would rather chat with their friends, tend to their virtual farms, upload their most recent photos, and even shop online… they are so busy doing all these things that they no longer read the bible… heck! They don’t even pray anymore!”

“So, you see, you are not really in a position to bargain with me offering your soul. What I’ve mentioned to you are just few of your people’s follies, and I can feel that they will keep on doing these things… and the more powerful I will become… AND I’M NOT EVEN DOING ANYTHING! Isn’t that great?!”

“Bwahahaha! Bwahahaha!” his laugher is beginning to annoy me now.

“A-hehehe… I see your point… I – I – I’m really sorry for wasting your time… I better go now,” and I tried to walk away slowly…

“NOT SO FAST! It’s not that easy you know, just by coming to me, you have actually given me your soul. You have lost more than your share of bargain… you people are such an idiot!”

“Wait a minute! You have not given me my wish! That’s not fair!”

“Fair?! Me, the devil? You want me to play fair? Bwahahaha!”