I sit at my kitchen window, on a hard chair that lends no comfort yet is the only place I feel comfortable. My body is heavy, burdened with the weight of everything running through my head. I try not to focus on the thoughts swirling around, the negativity that never seems to leave, that only distances itself from neutral conversation for a time being, then comes back with a vengeance, wishing not to be forgotten.
I distract myself. The view from the 26th floor never ceases to amaze me. I count the planes that go by, taking mental note of those that are headed to the airport quickly, as if they can’t wait to disembark, and those who fly leisurely, drifting in and out of the clouds as they glide along. And closer above me, I count the ones that are now leaving, heading out on their journey to destinations unknown to me.
The sun is setting and as the sky changes slowly from a light pale blue to a pinky lavender, my eyes turn to the clouds, as I lose count of the airplanes, becoming harder and harder to keep track of. Each cloud is a puzzle. An enigma of water and air, shaped in whatever Freudian image my mind decides to conclude upon.
I see a boy in a rocket ship-shaped wagon, speeding about. There is a demonic rat in the lower corner of the sky. Each time I glance upon it, it seems to shift into a friendlier image, becoming a guinea pig in a few minutes. A spider floats near by. I see roses and bushes, a lady with a pill bottle, a bear who slowly goes dissipates as he gains a hat.
My brother walks into the room, and asks why I am looking out the window. I tell him that I’m looking a rocket ship, a bear with a top hat and a rose bush. He thinks I’m being sarcastic and when I say I’m not, he thinks I’m high. Fair enough.
When I turn back, everything has changed. My spider is now squashed, my bear now blind, my roses wilted and my rat turned guinea pig looks like a pregnant lady dying. It all is a bit surreal yet fascinating and reflective.
It seems I feel a sense of ownership over these images in the sky as they disappear. Now I feel emptier than before. The clouds never stop, never rest for no one. Everything is fleeting.