For a week now, nostalgia is hitting me, hitting me real hard.

At night, I close my eyes and try to sleep after a long tiring workout in gym but all i could feel is to be there, where the hurt is.

Sitting on the floor, on the same floor with square, old, ruff surfaced tiles, near an old woman, with her hand softly stroking my hairs. getting pampered like a 2 year old kid, with a sweet smell of her wrinkled, almost dead skin. Nothings there in this whole universe like sitting near her and feel the warmth of her loving touch. And I mean it, theres absolutely nothing like that.

From the kitchen, that same old familiar voice of an aging lady, asking me to bring bread and eggs for dinner. With me neglecting her each word. Never imagined, id miss the fragrance of the incense, she used for the evening prayers. Never thought id miss seeing her coming home at evening with two big plastic bags full of household things, a flower in her long beautiful hairs and a drop of a sweat on her forehead.

Deposited dust on the surface of the table, spider webs in the corner of the windows high up on the wall, hanging power cable behind the TV, two sheets of thermocol beneath the fish tank, piles of cluttered newspapers under the table, calendar clipped at the bottom to keep it from fluttering because of the eddied air blown by the brown ceiling fan, broken black speed regulator of that fan. Its all a part of me that I had to leave behind, but somehow, it still lives deep inside of me. deep down somewhere.

And I keep on trying real fucking hard not to think and feel and be there. But all that im left with is a tear drop to wipe. and I smile :-)