Childlike

You are seating on your office desk and your Ipod is playing on your portable Sony speakers, soft but audible. “Child of Love” by Sara Groves. There is light work to be done but your mind is somewhere else, somewhere in the past. There were endless things you thoroughly enjoyed as a clueless kid. Simple things that kept you happily occupied after school like cutting your own Fuji red apple with a sharp fruit knife on a worn out wooden chopping board. Those afternoons you spent slouching on your white leather sofa, with some cheese in your hand, leftover soggy cornflakes with chocolate milk on the black marble table and your favorite Lego on the floor were the very essence of your relaxation at that point of time.

Lace, your 10 year old cream-colored curly haired dog will be lazing around the carpeted staircase, giving her occasional big yawns. All you can remember for most of your lunches at home your maid prepares were fried rice and chicken soup macaroni. Not something everyone would go entirely mad for, but every ingredient was fresh, generous in serving and there was something about homemade dishes that satisfied your stomach in a special way. All the cycling, street soccer and block catching have given you toned and somewhat scrawny legs built for velocity.

Cuts, bruises and abrasions and the taste of fresh blood on your lips are wounds you are extremely familiar with, alongside with that carelessness of yours.