A fleeting Sunday afternoon

There is something about a Sunday afternoon. Especially in a city. It’s extremely laid back. And seems like the whole world is indulging either in the act of reminiscence or sheer procrastination. I can only hear the sounds of kids playing and the occasional bird chirping.

There is something about a Sunday afternoon. Especially when you are in a dilemma. A dilemma exactly 105 days old. So old that it is beginning to stink. In your head. A decision has to be made. A chord has to be struck. A move has to be planned.

There is something about a Sunday afternoon. Especially when you’ve got chores to finish. Laundry. Repair. Study. Projects. Work. Never ending. Never changing.

There is something about a Sunday afternoon. Especially when you have been informed about four deaths. A politician. A woman and her child. And a paternal uncle. All of them monumental and unique in their own way. The politicians death evokes fear and respect. The woman and child’s death evokes fear and sympathy. The uncle’s death evokes fear and sadness. Death only teaches me one thing – from all that a man loves, he must part.

There is something about a Sunday afternoon. Especially when you realize that everything is in a constant state of evolving – whether for better or worse. Nothing stays forever. Dilemmas will pass. Chores will pass. I, too, am a brief and passing thing.

It is no longer a Sunday afternoon. It is a fleeting Sunday afternoon.

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~ by rb on November 18, 2012.

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