So the general consensus appears to be that I have either fallen off from the face of earth or killed myself. I can totally understand why this conclusion was arrived at (based on all my previous ramblings), but its actually very weird to get calls every alternate day just to check if I am still alive !
So if it is any consolation,
No - The flight didn't crash as I wanted it to. It flew safely all the way to and fro and I am still living here in one piece.
No - I have no intentions of throwing myself at any oncoming traffic, be it trains or cars.
No - I completely understand that a knife can and should only be used for cutting fruits/veggies and in my opinion the occasionally frequent amazon packages too ;) !
When I was really down in the dumps and wanted to have a conversation, there was not a soul around to even ask me if I was doing Ok. Now when I have settled it all (in my head and otherwise too) and finally managed to make peace with whatever it was all about, I get a zillion questions thrown at me every single day to remind me of something I try not to think of at all ! I have known all along that 'Irony' is the middle name and heck, last name of life too, but why do I have to live through it !
So that said and done, I have survived my first day of winter snow (And yes still in one piece!). There's something magical about December, about Christmas, about this pristine white snow blanket spread all around, the lights. I love it. I wouldn't be anywhere else for winters, but just here! As much as I crib about having to shovel the snow off my car and pavement, I still love every bit of this.
My new found craze is a fact I just learnt recently - Every window has a story to tell.
The passion started off as my curiosity to drive around the neighborhood and see how they have decked up the houses for the holidays. At dusk, almost every house in and around and even far flung are decked up with the most beautiful decorations and lights. But what really caught my attention was the always open one window in every house. It is either the window to the kitchen or the window beside the den with the lighted tree, or the window in the dining area. Every window which was open had a story to tell. Of the people, of the longing, of the holidays, of a year gone by.
The window in the kitchen opened to the scene of a grandmother sipping her cup of hot cocoa (I assume) while browsing the huge album book laid out in the table in front of her. I suppose, like every other holiday previous year, this year too, she has decked up the house beautifully to welcome her children and grandchildren. She sure has done a great job of it !
The window in the den opened to show a huge tree lighted up and decorated with multi colored strings. I could see a child stop his dog from tugging away at the tree. The mother and dad were sharing a nice laugh seeing the two in action.
The dining room scene was pretty much typical of what you would see otherwise too. A family table laid out with aromatic dishes and the family says grace before marveling at the glorious spread.
I decorated my house too. Not a tree. No star. Just a string of lights. I leave them on and I leave my window blinds open too. I am curious to hear the story I would hear from somebody who, like me, would try to come up with.
The story of a single lighted window with a girl looking out to wonder what the world thinks her story would be.