And do I need to know the age of my soul, really? Do I need to know how old it is? I wonder. As the greenish sky-blue curtains of this bedroom don't mind letting themselves flow, letting themselves be dominated by the summer air, the wild afternoon air, I don't mind going with the flow either. Like a child, I happen to think whether these old yet fresh curtains sometimes purify and cool down the hot summer air first before allowing it to reach me. I become more childlike mentally and wonder if its always been like this.
When I see the one who has lately become my everything, my pet, resting entirely over a cold surface that we would call veranda, a smile appears to my face out of..nowhere. A smile, I know, full of memories. I pass by this veranda every time I get in and out, but how this adorable pet of mine, having come to where he was awaited for two long years, owns a power to make me recall everything I witnessed here. Over this veranda. How I lived the best hours of my life here. With my loved ones. No, I haven't grown up in an air-conditioned something surrounded by four walls, but I have, yes I have got my knees injured while playing carelessly with my cousins right over here. I haven't come home late at nights when I possibly had every excuse to, but I have, surely, left home late because I had every person here as a reason to. Like icing on the cake, this a lot of years old place that we call our home, is where I was born. This is where I'm beginning to start the journey leading me somewhere that may or may not bless me with a safe way back.
Its midnight and I lie in bed over the terrace. Under the stars. It turns satisfaction into pure pleasure to hear my pet breathing and sleeping so peacefully. When I see the sky above me forming a new shape every time, I can't help but get all the answers. To the questions even I haven't figured out yet. When the pleasing cold breeze touches me and makes me feel like I'm getting renewed, am I supposed not to feel I'll be born tomorrow morning again? Am I supposed to wonder why, when I see just an ant struggling to continue its path and end up literally praying to God that it makes it, despite my own confusion whether or not I believe in God? Perhaps, when I don't forget to capitalize the first letter while spelling God, it means, maybe, I do have some positiveness for Him.
Is it just a matter of positiveness I'm letting in or has something already arrived into my small town to make room for revolution?