Ambition of Wannabe Millionaires

The whisper of the soft wind brings with it the comforting spirit of the night. It slithers over the hairs of my skin with an icy caress. I wrap my soul in it. Within minutes, I forget that the sun had scorched my body all day long as I took route 11 or my aching fingertips from tapping away at the keyboard. The red tiles that I am sitting on have been pelted with rain and sun baked for long enough to halt the possibility of color rubbing off on my clothes.

It takes no effort to see past the concrete village at this height. My eyes become fixed on a winding worm of tiny yellow pairs of light. Each ripple of the worm chimes in rhythm with the slowing body clock controlling my mind. Time begins to loose its meaning. I turn to my right on the path leading to my home and capture the minute silhouette of a young mother with a bag of what seems to be groceries. On the other arm, she presses a small handbag against her side. Two dark figures ahead of her throw their arms in the air wildly. I can almost tell what they are saying in their lively sign-languaged chat. The day is slowing down to curtain-raise the weekend. The path of the lively duo and young mother will probably head to a forked end.

With the mood set, I stare at the sky. She has a dull gray complexion and hazy starry eyes. Is it the eyes that are curiously in motion or her furry clouds? The glory of Orion The Hunter is hidden behind her fur. The lazy lady is strangely comforting and her understanding of nature re-assures me that my will to succeed in a world full of deceit is a worthy quest. In the neighborhood across the border, drawn by a main road that is always buzzing, I remember the number of times I hurt a lady… there’s no moon, no need for romance.

The image of a new beginning is mirrored in my soul. The avionic aura of the roof electrifies every inch of my being. It will not let me inhale the dust of the street, hear the interfering waves of human rumblings or the clanking of crockery from dinner tables from the floors below. I blend in with the winds as I monologue with TV aerials sticking out of the tiles. These matchstick men prove to be good company. They stand still along with my paused internal tick. This is what silence before the final judgment must be like- an ironically peaceful wait to either elevation or damnation. This is what this holiday is all about, being at peace with yourself and thinking of others even when in conflict. The Christ did it everyday but to me it’s a struggle…

Dear Linda,

I remember the first time that we kissed. Though my very first one as a teen was a messy affair, I discovered a different form of bliss with you as you sang ‘Lady Marmalade’. It wasn’t just your voice but the classic style and passionate twist that you added to it. I was left wondering why they hadn’t noticed you before. Within no time, your name was on everybody’s mouth. Our secret love affair had ended. You remained faithful in the midst all the pomp and show in your new queenly status. Although there were tough times when you almost lost your voice towards the end of our relationship, you still whispered to me from the deepest parts of your soul.

In the beginning, most of our detractors spread rumors to break our love but our combination was lethal enough to shoot them down. We were voted as the best couple on several occasions. The Brangelina or Bennifer duos could not match up to our levels of young distraction. Your Marmalade performance is still vivid in my mind. You wore a simple black body hugging dress that was patterned to accentuate your beautiful curves. Your eyes shone with the strength of a child learning her first steps. You moved with the gentle power of a sea breeze and emanated a sweet saltiness that boiled in my veins.

Renee dared to cross your path but you handled it bravely and later went on to reconcile with her. Even Ian could not extinguish the flame that you lit in your live performances. You had previously told me that you had been a straight talker with a bad attitude. During your stay with me, I saw your directness but you skewed from the bad attitude that you had before we met. It was a sign of growth that made me want to change.

In time, they tried and tested you and you left them by them wayside. Our love was being moulded on a strong frame and I promised to prop your dreams until they came to reality. The final hour came, dripping sand cautiously through the mystic neck of the hourglass. Alvan, Valerie and Cedric tore through with the best of the best. Alvan gave you a run for your money and Valerie emerged from her cherry tinged shadows to grab the spotlight but you still broke off the pack. Everyone knew that you had it. I was so confident that my support seemed unnecessary. I embraced your victory as my dream and failed to support you thus forgetting that it was you who lived it. I may blame Pricewaterhouse Cooper’s tally or Gallo Record’s want for a controllable candidate but it’s no use. I know sorry won’t be enough for not actually voting.

As controversial as the ending was, you celebrated with Valerie. I still cannot believe that after everyone’s support previously, it flipped on us. But you were strong and said it’s not your last. Even though we broke up, you promised to be back again, maybe not as lovers but as friends. You’ll always have that special piece of me I am ready to do more now.