The alarm beeps. I wake up with a sad face. I want to sleep more. But the week has only begun. As I move to the kitchen to start preparing for the kids breakfast and lunch, the silence in the house is serene, calm and peace. The clattering of the cooker breaks it all. The pots and pans. The clinking of the spoons. The husband soon joins the battle. After a while, the chimney blares it’s horn. Shortly after, the kid wakes up in a groggy mood like her mama. Within minutes I am called for help to get ready! The clock time glares at me increasing its invisible pressure on me and we all scatter around the four wall, like mad mouses trapped in a single cell called home, envisioning our way out. A joyful noise and maddening environment indeed.
I bear it all. Because in a few years the house will be empty and there will be only silence around. Unless it’s me laughing aloud at some WhatsApp forward sent by the kid. And then I would call her to discuss these silly things which she forwards to me once in a while. Just like how I am talking to my mother now. Everyday.