My December

I sit, and I wait.

As the clock slowly ticks, crossing away each second, each minute, each day, slowly edging towards that time.

The eerie darkness, sunlight in perpetual hibernation, each breath condensing in the thick air, falling short of its purpose, yet creating beauty before its expected demise. The chill permeating your skin, entering your bones, making each movement an effort, yet an accomplishment in itself. Your sight, blurred by the constant fog. The shivering, the chattering of the teeth, the sharp pins and needles, and then the sudden calm as the pain gives way to numbness, a numbness that slowly spreads and consumes each inch of your body.

But most importantly, the numbness that consumes you.

As you step outside in the freezing night, where nothing dares move, lest it be identified as the wind’s prey. As each emotion fights its way through, fighting for survival, for the warmth, to be let out and dance through the world. As the chill slowly suffocates each, in its own relentless brutal way.

And then, you finally smile, feeling the stretch of your face from the effort, and yet it’s beautiful. You feel the chilling wind hit your face, freeze your nose, sting your eyes, so hard that it almost hurts, before you feel it no more. Before you feel, no more.

It’s a beautiful season.

Depressing for most.
Liberating for some.

I sit, and I wait.

Domestication

It’s a word that reminds me of an untrained dog, or something worse, like a cow running wild in the woods.

“Why is it doing that?” ask the bewildered villagers.

“Oh, it isn’t domesticated yet.”

And that really does explain it all.

Except that it’s a term that mum chose to use for me. Well, because, I’m 25. And a girl. And couldn’t be less interested in cooking.

I guess that explains it all as well.

So now that I’m back home, it was only a matter of time before Project Domestication was launched. It didn’t quite go in the direction either of us wanted, but we’ve reached a nice little compromised middle path with which both of us are rather satisfied.

So my dear future hubby, I might not be able to make daal tadka and ten types of veggies for you, but I should hopefully be able to appeal to your sweet tooth at the end of the ready-to-eat packet meal we’ll soon get used to devouring.

So that’s what’s new each weekend, and you know what, I actually look forward to it!

Last weekend was my Mum’s simple vanilla and two layered cake. You would be happy to know, that it wasn’t hard, it wasn’t burnt, and it wasn’t anything weird. It was, in fact, rather perfect.

The yum vanilla cake!

And the double layered cupcakes

Maybe I do have my mum’s baking genes.

Or of course, maybe it was simple enough for a monkey to cook, and with my mum watching over my shoulder and giving instructions, not much could go wrong.

But I choose to believe in the former!

Right now as I write this, there’s a lemon soufflé resting in the refrigerator. Fill you in on that one, well, once I figure out if it’s edible! Fingers crossed!

Hope

Note:

In some ways, this is a continuation to Fate. But then, if you ask me, I don't believe it is. Sometimes, it's all about believing. And I don't believe this is how Fate ended.

Two souls brought into this world

Meant to be, meant to be

Lost faith and yet found each other

And made their own destiny.

But with sunshine came the clouds

The rain not far behind

The moon hid forever

In darkness, they collide

He let the dark consume him

And waited for her to find

But where hope is deep imbedded

Life cannot be lived blind

The dark she couldn’t bear

The light was not his home

Separated by unsung boundaries

Entombed in their little dome

Never once did he ask her

Why she chose the light over dark

Never once did she tell him

Her darkness had left a mark

Never once did she ask him

What made his words sway

Never once did he tell her

He never meant it this way

Thrown together by destiny

Torn apart by fate

They struggled with each other

And within, each day

Belief can be confusing

For those who choose to believe

Enlightening and full of hope

Before it chooses to leave

What they never understood

Fate and destiny only go so far

Once brought together

Hold on, or be flung afar

Cruel is fate’s humour

Cursed from the start

Some things are meant to be

Some meant to fall apart.