My Love Proses

Prose 3: Spring of Penneslyvia

The brevity of breeze under the calm night. The sweet caress of air swirling around the downcast evening. The calming chattering, the translucent fireflies, the oozing aroma of dining meals, the sound of great jubilation and the grandeur prickle of every street lights.

Those are the beautiful scenery I have perceived at this most awaited moment. Those are the things, the events and the sweet periphery that can truly lead me into contemplation. It is like just a continuing dream, an awakening call of a nightmare and a wavelength of remedy. Nothing compares to the vision a New Year's Evening can give to any humankind of this world, however, I know, not everyone could particularly appreciate its presence.


Nevertheless, this kind of happy holidays— gives hope to me and to all the people around me, and at the same time, ascends their aspiration in love and eternity. This holiday season gives tenderness and rapture that everyone truly deserves.

Five meters away from the tristeful windowpane, there is a girl, head lying down just above the table, holding a Faber Castell pen, hearing the tick-tock tune of the wall clock. In her other hand, there she holds a small disheveled calendar with its miniscule hole below the hem of it.

Who else would own this girl?
It is a good riddance, I guess, if someone would. No fortune at all.

I am that girl. Call me Pen. Do not ever think that I have cap and refilled machine for inks because no, I would not be used for a writing purpose. My name is pen. However, I do not have an ink at all. Come on, I don't have colors for it, and I am not something that is worth to be written. I am not worth the masterpiece.

"Pen!" I was startled when my Mom yelled. I straightened my posture and frowned. Here she comes again, I am sure she would make me do some unending chores. Come on, it is New Years' Eve. I am not meant to die with this encumbrance.

"Hmm? What do you need?" I lazily responded. I stood up and arranged the papers scattered above my swivel chair and table. I immediately felt the presence of my Mom behind me.

"Why are you still up here? Come on down, kiddie. The fireworks will be showcased twenty minutes from now." Her voice raised. Hell, it screams anticipation. Goodness. Humanity always feel anxious about fireworks. It's too nonsensical.

"Yeah. I'd be there soon." I silently nag at the back of my mind. I turned around to face Mom when she held my hand and gave me penny.

"For what?" I asked, ingenuinely.

"What do you think?" She rhetorically mumbled. I sighed. I saw Mom rolled her eyes, then, she stormed out of the room telling nothing.

Seconds later, I left the room and went towards our kitchen. My brother then told me that Mom requested me to pay the fruit salad ingredients she had purchased on the Tracy store, just a few meters away from our home. However, Mom told my brother that she was apartly annoyed of my lethargic reaction, in which she just chose to leave, before she would get some useless dementia.

"Okay. I'll go." I heavily replied at my brother and went outside our house.

As I saw the festive scenario in the blistering streets, children playing the colorful horns, my neighborhoods buying different things from the store, the loud bang of music all around, and the teens who were dancing with the rhythm like this is the most precious ocassion— divine providence, these are all too good in my eyes.

In that moment, I was stunned and too... flabbergasted. I could not speak at all. All I ever realized that I was just smiling widely while watching every individual as to whom my eyes could land.