Three Little Puppies and Two Old Men
The ride to school in the morning is the time when my brain processes a diverse range of information at a terrifying pace. In these moments, I experience a wide spectrum of emotions, interior monologues, conflict resolutions, motivating self-talks, anxiety repellants, so on and so forth.
Most of the time, the fleeting sights outside don't even fall under my attention radar. They are just a passive background to the elaborate drama my brain plays out. Today, the dominating actor of that performance was anger. Anger is an understatement. Pure, undiluted rage that had sharp polished claws and murderous fangs, desperately searching for something to tear apart.
Life hits you like that some days and you can't help but unleash the beast lying dormant inside. The said beast and Mondays are good friends; they always work in tandem. And today, as you can guess is a Monday.
As I was seething with rage on the bus, taking the lovely window seat for granted, a sight suddenly softened my heart and dragged out a reluctant smile. Three little puppies just ambling around and two old men staring at them with childish wonder and amusement, and somehow that's what it took to calm my seething rage; three little puppies and two old men who just stood there looking at the little ones, letting them run around their legs without blocking their path. They were perhaps in their sixties, and if the mad protagonist of the book I am reading (Maria Just Maria) is right, sixties is the time when you accept the tiny big reality of life that there's not much to life. This is what it is and it looks like the two old men are going through that. Nobody else would let time slip away looking at tiny puppies, invested in their little movements and theatrics.
I am still wondering why that particular sight caught my attention. That fleeting second which is lingering on the corridors of my mind. Perhaps in that moment when I was swearing off love from my life, banishing it to a neverland of no return, that sight perhaps brought back something. The tiny flash of joy that finds you unexpectedly, perhaps, reminding me that's what life is all about. Tiny pockets of joy that find you when you least expect it. And maybe, just maybe, joy belongs to those who let those pockets in without question.