The Life Of Harmony. (1st Chapter)
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Harmony's POV:
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“Are you done for tonight?” Serena asks me, standing beside the exit door. “Yeah, I just need to unpack the stocks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I wave a polite goodbye, earning back a smile from her. This is my life: Home then work. This cycle is on repetition, and I fear that it may not stop till I depart this planet. But then again, this is what I receive for being independent.
My foster parents weren’t youthful, and to my luck; they died five years after they adopted me. They were the nicest couple I had met, actually the only couple that I met. Its not that simple to live all of your life in a church’s adoption center. I spoke my first words there, I was taught how to walk, read, and write; all of under the sacred roofs of the center. Considering that I was under the protection of god’s servers, my mind was closed more on life’s edges.
Once I turned fifteen, I got adopted by the Lockwood’s couple. Theresa, the mother that I only had, dreamt to conceive a child; almost all of her life. But her body wasn’t a reproductive one, so as her last wish; she wanted to adopt. Michael, her husband, wanted to fulfil her wish, and for that they hurried with the process. I never asked for much from them, but they sure took care of all of my essentials.
They homeschooled me, and in return I helped them with their medications and their incurable health condition. They were an old couple, both at the age of seventy. But what made them young is the amount of respect, that they had for each other. They loved each other to an endless limit, and tried their individual best to satisfy the other partner.
The memories that I lived with them are priceless. On their last days, they begged me to ask the doctor if they could share the same hospitalised room. Yes, they were that much attached to each other. If Michael would sneeze, Theresa would be the first to say a worried “Bless you.” They both got ill at a similar time, each one of them in a different case of ageing.
Even though I did not share a blood bond with my foster family, they gave me their good wills. They registered all of their minimal savings, the house, and the car in my name. This was their only way to thank me for being beside them at their final days. But I never needed a thank you, and I was never waiting for such repayment. They did so much for me, they loved me like I was their own; and that’s enough.
There are people who seek a successful future, and there are others that seek emotional success; such as love. I belong to the second category, because I believe that success in life depends on emotional and individual support. Most of the great thinkers of our world, became insane from their mighty works. I have an opinion about this, whether its believable or not: The reason why they got insane, is because they were alone.
No one was there beside him, when Mozart created his first symphony; no one was sitting beside Newtown when the apple dropped on his head; allowing him to form the law of gravity. They were alone, and unlike them; I don’t want to be alone. I want someone to love me, just as I am willing to love him back. Friends are not included in my wish, I need someone that would hug me, precious me for every single inch of my being.
But then again, I won’t find someone when I am stuck in this bar. Only the worst male categories come to this bar. Bikers, gang members, and depressed-married men. As a waitress, I have learned how to cope with their types, but I have binding rules that I created, for my own protection. I never: mingle, show emotional affection, nor open any door of a conversation with any of the costumers.
