May 2004 Issue - Essay # 6
Sunshine
on a Raindrop
By
Sarvani Chakravorty
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I am not able to sleep, not
because I don’t want to. I toss and turn, bunching the sheet beneath
me. The clock ticks away loudly in the silence of the night. I give up
trying to sleep. Instead, I think of him. Not that I had not been
thinking of him, but I let thoughts of him come in front and push sleep
somewhere to the back. He is rarely far from the periphery of my
thoughts. Every now and then, he pushes forward in my thoughts, claiming
the centre-stage. I can’t understand him. It is raining when we step
out of the car and walk towards the lake. He turns to look at me and
says, “You’ll look like a wet blanker, pull up the hood. And you
might catch a cold!” The words come to me from far off. I reach behind
my jacket to pull up the hood. He reaches out to arrange it over my
head. The gesture is strangely comforting. He’s never done something
like that. A warm feeling envelops me. A small voice inside my head
tells me to stop reading too much into a gesture that he might have made
towards anyone. I cry out silently wanting to believe my heart, but the
voice keeps interrupting. I hold the Styrofoam cup of
coffee between my hands, warming my hands; building a ring round myself:
a ring of confidence. I want to be poised with him. We walk along the path.
“It’s so peaceful here,” he comments. I glance around briefly and
agree with him. My senses are slightly overwhelmed, and I don’t
register anything. The continuous sound of the waves on the shore sneaks
into my conscience briefly. The peace outside is only a reflection of
peace inside of me when I am with him. But am I really at peace when I
am with him? There seems to be a palpable tension, an electricity in the air between us. I feel it all the time. Does he feel it too? There is contentment within me when I am with him, but peace--no. We walk side by side,
avoiding the puddles on the path, walking on the grass. The sleeves of
our jackets brush against each other--accidental, unintentional. I am
immediately aware of it. Does he sense it too? We stop beside the inlet
where the water is deep and calm. The sounds of water lapping gently
against the bank calms me somewhat. We are silent, watching the water,
two people standing close together--close enough to touch, not
talking, each with their own thoughts. We turn back, and the wind
whips around us. I instinctively move closer to him, seeking comfort,
warmth, safety in his proximity. The little voice inside my head mocks
me, “He’s never made any promises to you.” I ignore it. The moment
is important to me. The grey waves break on the shore. The water rushes in and recedes gradually. The raindrops continue to fall, slowly and gently--but there is a sunshine within me, momentary and fleeting, but sunshine nevertheless.
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Author's Biography I live in Toronto, Canada. I
travel a lot and like to write a journal for my personal pleasure and
this is my first attempt at seeing my name in print. People,
relationships, pets are my main interests.
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Essay
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