Art of trust

He walked near his bed with a cup of coffee he held it firmly and looked outside the window from his bed. He felt the cold air caressing his face and simultaneously the noise of the rustling leaves soothed his heart. He was distracted by the pulsating smoke coming out of the cup. He had a strange feeling created by the sullen atmosphere, he admired the cloudy weather and the cold breeze but he was ill at ease and uncomfortable. As he looked out of the window he heard people talking, some of them were be walking towards their destination in a rush, while others were sitting by themselves, he saw small squirrels rapidly climbing up the tree, and birds collecting small pieces of wood. His eyes lowered with disappointment and he began to drink his coffee.

His room was quite clean. Bed sheets were carefully placed, his luxuries were nicely arranged on the dressings, his clothes were perfectly placed in his wardrobe also the chairs and sofas were stainless. He put that cup on the side table and closed his eyes. He grabbed his phone and played the song. He felt alone but his heart was at peace. While he was busy singing along, the cold air which entered through the window brushed his face, leaves continued to rustle and he heard distant chirping of birds. As he began to enjoy this moment the corners of his mouth curled up, maybe he was now grateful of the weather, birds and leaves to add up some happiness to this moment. He enjoyed his own self in isolation, in desolation maybe unaware of how the world is changing.

“Emancipate yourself from mental slavery none but ourselves can free our mind”, he sang along. Suddenly he opened his eyes as if he came back to reality, he eventually disliked everything he felt suffocated and imprisoned. He took hold of his sweater and walked out of the apartment. He was still breathing heavily. It’s already been a year since he parted from his family. It reminded him of the time when he found himself alone for the first time, when he used to come home without receiving his mother’s love, without having siblings to occupy the living area, without having anyone to ask about what he wants to eat. Even those small moments in which he laughed with them turned out to be really precious. Every time he enters his home he feels like being in a graveyard, all silent and dark, still with some hope in a state of expectation as though something else to happen. He lives miles away from his home and family. Even though there was a barrier of distance and time, this new pandemic lost him all the hope he had to see his beloveds.

Before he could figure the way out, things began to happen silently. Apparently he was scared of being used to of his new temporary state. He was well aware of how it was teaching him to pretend but he found it to be the best way out. Simultaneously, this darkness and negativity were a part of his daily routine and before he knew it they became his addiction.

“How come is am so unfamiliar to myself?” he thought.

When he came back to his senses he found himself walking on almost an endless street. He heard children calling each other, shouting and giggling while they were playing. He saw them sliding down those slides, dangling on a swing stock, jumping on the bridge, swinging and giggling, while others were timidly walking holding their mothers hand. They surely are having fun until they grow up and find that they were making memories. He ignored the scene and found a bench to give rest to his legs, when suddenly he was distracted by the noise of a bell. As he noticed his surrounding he found a small shop directly in front of the bench where he was siting. There was a man probably in his mid-40s who was standing at the counter and greeting people as they entered through the door. He saw that he was quite concentrated and busy. The shop was also congested and filled. He was now looking at the window right in front of him where he saw his reflection. He saw himself as a weak and vulnerable man, who was bound to live the way he is. He continued sharing his thoughts with himself until he was distracted by a weary voice asking his permission to sit by his side.

He noticed that the lights of the shop were turned off and the ‘close’ sign dangling on the door. He silently sat by himself unbothered to greet him. Although he felt uncomfortable, he lost all his attention and now he was struggling to focus on his thoughts as this new arrival continued to stare at him. He was bothered by his gaze, he hated how people wrongly judged anyone, how they trusted their false assumptions, and formed an entirely different character out of it. He felt as if he was being judged, it was unusual but he felt conscious. The sun was going below the horizon and the sky turned into strange shades of red and orange. Branches of the nearby tree covered half of the view while its leaves were slowly waving as the wind blew. He saw distant birds flying towards their destination and observed how deserted that place looked.

“You should be at home kid”, said the man who sat by his side.

He could not find a perfect answer so he nodded, and decided to find his privacy.

“Life maybe hard or difficult to live but everything is written……everything is destined”, said the man after a long pause. 

As his words reached his ears he looked at him, with dissatisfaction in his eyes. He heard those lines from many people but ‘why’ was his question. Why is he supposed to live when everything is already written, why should he pray for a better future when it is already decided.

“Isn’t it such a waste of time to live like this if it is already written” he replied with frustration. He never acknowledged people with this type of perspective he always doubted the existence of Him up above.

“Maybe on some page he has written ‘what you want’ “, the man said as he smiled and looked into his eyes. His heart was filled with some uncertain feeling as his voice reached his ears. He saw the man walking towards the shop, still with a smile on his face.

He sat there quietly but this time everything was blank. He heard a bird chirping as she landed on her nest, causing the leaves to rustle, while little baby birds sat under her wings, art of trust.