Embracing them back

I have been sitting here since early this evening. Actually, I want to do something. Right here. Now. To write down my heart’s content on this blank page, instantaneously. But I don’t know where to begin. 

The window of room is open, and the cold breeze is gently rushing in, wafting the hem of light brown lace curtains. Well, it’s the day when Thimphu is in its cruelest. Bare tree branches tremble nervously. Withered grass sticks collect icing blades that slowly melt as the day marches on.

In fact, the entire valley has turned starkly barren, and fighting against the perishing cold. At one point, I gaze up at the perfectclear blue sky. And, there’s an abyss of blueness within the enigmatic blue space.

So to say, there’s this strong yearning, somewhere deep inside my heart that I cannot locate, to scribble those words that want to come out; or to put it a little more accurately, those feelings that I am wanting to transform into words. They are as deep as the blueness of the blue sky. Will I be able to apprehend and transform them into words here?

Well, today is the last day of the year, 2016. This particular longing in me is making my heart heavy. Unbeknown to me, I walk in the kitchen. I briskly placed kettle on the stove. Pouring a cup full of hot water in the container, I put on the gaslight. A little after, I added a tiny lump of Brookbond tea and then sugar and milk together. I carefully stirred it with a spoon.

Little of it spilled out when I pour it in my mug. I carry it to my veranda.Once outside, sitting on the floor, I wrapped the tea mug with my both hands. Closer, I caught a whiff of the freshly brewed tea. I tooka gulp of my steamy tea and many more until I empty the mug. I feel a lot better, as the tea let pleasant warmth wash over me.

Before this good-feeling sensation leaves me, I run back to the room, in front of my computer. As always, I fall back on applying my own trick, a witty method of wooing myself with a little ounce of force to stand firm and write.

This time, I am able to write. I am writing. And as I do it, as I pour down everything from my heart I feel my heart is comforted wonderfully. The weariness slowly disappears, and the heaviness in my heart evaporates.

 

I look up at the sky again. And there amidst the so naked blue sky, to my great pleasure and wonder, I spot a clump of white clouds floating like the careful strokes of a good brush. I feast my eyes there for a moment.

The fact of the matter is that I’ve been missing serious writing for quite a long time. I’ve been missing the habit of writing in my room. I’ve been missing my own tea. And all along, I’ve been craving for all this. But no wonder, I can embrace them back, like a clump of white clouds in the vast blue sky I just spotted.

Happy New Year, dear readers! I wish you a great year ahead.