You may regard it as yet another silly thought passing through my mundane mind. I tried not to think of it at all, after originally wanting to post it here. I am doing that after all!
Evening 6.30pm, I was seeing my domestic off when the conversation steered to: who knows how soon I may disappear from here…! The lady had humbly wanted to know if with “him”; I had cut her short and almost screamed: why with him, Aloooonnn…e
I had hurt my finger on the door lock. A voice spoke in my mind: get some ice on that hurt now. Locking the door, bidding her bye, almost like a zombie, I had walked animatedly to the fridge and taken an ice-cube out to soothe it on the hurt finger. It was during one of his mood depressions that he had tried snatching the folder away from my hand and my thumb nail had broken two days back. It was severely picked from the root. To save the hurt, I had not snapped it off. By the evening same day, I was fuming and raged up (reasons, not worth making a mention here) and apparently snapped that nail in a fit of rage. Half of my nail was gone, from the bed. He had insisted that he get some ice and I had refused to hear him… instead had ignored him for long.
Today, I hurt my finger one more time- exactly on the wound.
Holding the ice-cube on the thumb, watching the blood mixed water dripping by, I thought over: was I hurt because I wanted to sail solo or is it because I had refused to apply ice at the first attempt of the request? I wouldn’t know. The next few minutes were a close match between my tears and blood. After the chunk had melted washing away the last of the blood and dried up clotted skin away; I rolled my index finger in the wound. The pain was gone. I am typing with the same finger.
However far I had wanted to run away (in words atleast then), it was his uttered words that had commanded me to make my next set of moves.
I say: Destiny beholds to meet me again!