First, one, then the other, and another, we slowly and steadily departed from our parent's home after high school to walk further on the path of our respective lives. Sometimes hesitantly, or fearfully, or resentfully, each sibling exited on a certain day, at an unfixed hour. Not quite a tradition, though certainly customary by the time my turn arrived, all winds blew out towards adventure and adulthood, and in my mind, total freedom. Some returned, if just for a brief visit at holidays, others would not for reasons to varied to remember, yet certainly discussed in great length at the breakfast table, or whispered about behind closed doors to which I habitually pressed my ear. I am told that my mother seemed to have lost some of the glow she once had, now living in a silent and child-less house. I am told that she would swing on our front-porch early in the evenings through nightfall, staring into the distance as if listening for footsteps, or a child's voice, or the opening of a door. I could have written a short letter or made a brief call, I could have visited once or twice, yet did neither, for reasons that now seem absolutely, incredulously petty. The memory remains ever so strong, and the thought of her, sitting, waiting--without end--breaks my heart into a million little pieces. And I'll never be able to gather them all, or put them together in one piece, ever.
It's the weekend, and if you can, reach out and make someone (else) happy.
PS: Today's soundtrack is JONSI & ALEX's Happiness (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oPI2uYUZGQ8&feature=related)