Cracked Pavements; Sun In The Window

Cracked Pavements; Hope In The Window

A dark empty road lit by yellow lamps, which cast a halo around themselves. Creepy shadows make the road look sinister, the cracked pavements adding to a touch of the surreal. The dullness affects the colours, which fade into neutrality, in the gloom. You cannot tell which is what. Quietness and such stillness, yet constantly with the backdrop of a distant traffic sound, from some neighboring highway. The buzz forever indicates a world where constant action is brewing.

Lonely lives lived in isolated houses, each a world in itself. There are those who live inside these castles, who have not touched their surroundings. They go about their business in the morning. The neighbors see them reverse their cars out and drive off to don’t-know-where. They work with their heads down all day and at the end return exhausted to their abode. Quietly in the shadow of the dark they creep into the house, parking their cars in designated areas, making sure there isn’t much noise. They look around apologetically when the garage door makes its squeaking sounds; almost as if the surrounding should not know that they are back from the living world.

Sometimes nosy neighbors wait for them to come in. But mostly there is indifference. Who really cares when and what their neighbour is about. They want them to be away from their own lives, so that no connections are formed.  That is vitally important, as connections mean emotions and that leads to obligations.

“Down the street the dogs are barkin’
And the day is a-gettin’ dark
As the night comes in a-fallin’
The dogs’ll lose their bark
An’ the silent night will shatter
From the sounds inside my minds
For I’m one too many mornings
And a thousand miles behind.”

He does not really want an obligation. There are too many already. Does he not have to finish his presentation for his boss to review and then there is the steering committee to report to, on the progress of the project. What about the taxes. Forever forking out local taxes, sales taxes and federal taxes, it is the outside of enough. The wife has to worry about the boy. They are social misfits nowadays. Have you not seen how he avoids eating at the dinner table, but instead takes the plate upstairs to an isolated room? What goes on inside that world? The little lady is forever wondering and out of sync with it.

The noise is reverberating inside the teenagers head. He can hear the songs from last week’s concert and it creates psychedelic pictures in his mind. He has partaken of the food from the dinner table, but he is not really connected. Time soon to speak to his girlfriend. Pretty nothings to be poured down via the net. She will be waiting. Then he has to sneak out and meet his friends. Together, they plan to check out the nearest bar. He hopes they can get a drink there. Otherwise there is the local grocery store. They should be able to buy a six pack there. A night of chilling out with friends, but for him its living life at the edge.

Tonight as the son goes sneaking out he sees it and wonders what action to take. Can he fight the world? He has already isolated himself from it, but can he cut linkages so that his family is cocooned? What would his father have done in just such a time? But his father is gone and cannot tell him much. Did father feel the same isolation in his time? Had he been as difficult to please and handle. Perhaps so! Memory plays its games with time and events.  Anyway his father was from his home country and a different timezone.

The lights dimmed, he cannot sleep. There is so much happening in this world, for which he has no answers. He looks at the stationery form of his wife. It was not meant to be this way. A lifetime of struggle, culminating in a mortgaged house, middle level job and a progeny who he cannot feel connected to.

“From the crossroads of my doorstep
My eyes start to fade
As I turn my head back to the room
Where my love and I have laid
An’ I gaze back to the street
The sidewalk and the sign
And I’m one too many mornings
An’ a thousand miles behind.”

No there are no easy answers. Just to soldier on; live as best as one can. Live on hope. Yes hope! That has not faded away. Hope is the essential which keeps him going, when he wakes once more in the morning and finds the morning sun beaming into his room through the window.

Today could be the day when all goes right once more.

Inspired by the lyrics of Bob Dylan “One too many mornings” and a dark street in America

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About sarfarazar
I have been lucky! A long career with large scale organisations and some acclaim. Also, took time off to write, mentor and do some education and social development projects. I continue to mentor and help younger people in life. Inshallah, hope to write on various subjects in my blog.

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