Weekend

Weekend intrigues me, waiting for the entire five days to live for two.

You feel a sense of fulfillment that life is good, and you look around, spend time with your family, have a beer, and look back at your life.

As the day approaches near, and everything about the day was perfect- perfect according to your idea. You divert your mind to something intangible — and dwell in the question of ‘what if everything changes one day?’

What if, you lose everything one day and you pull your chair and have a beer alone, staring blankly at the sky and fall sleep in the balcony and nobody is there to wake you up?

But you keep your persistent attitude that nothing will change; change itself is a negative terminology. Who likes change unless it’s favorable?

And one day, you have a fancy car outside your house and a huge lawn perfectly placed with new flowers, you are shaving your beard because of the big meeting you have with your client.

But it smells strange inside the bathroom and you smell just like your father— like an old cologne or old shaving cream.

You come outside, there is a big flat screen, a wine bottle lying empty on the ground and a loose red bra dangling from the bed.

You hear a soft, caring voice from the kitchen, like someone cooking something.

You hear — kids being adamant about playing hide and seek in the bedroom.

All of a sudden, the phone rings. Louder than it should.

And you feel terribly alone— so alone that the house itself looks like a decorated cage with no life.

The aftershave smells like you because you are old.