Reverie of light

I came home, walking through a patch of Lalang rods lustily cavorting in the breeze. Sunlight was trapped in them…it moved restlessly from fuzzy tip to stem…only to get trapped again. When I came home, their hair had clung to my skirt. When I came home, I was wearing a sunlight sprinkled skirt that glowed warm with every swish.

I reached the wooden table, where I laid down my basket. My basket…it was filled with gold of all hues. Red gold, yellow gold, violet gold, gold gold. Somehow, the rainbow had gotten trapped here too. I walked towards the living room. A burst of honey gold spread over me. I felt warm as toast. I knew then that he had left the door open.

I walked towards the living room and I saw an old, weathered chair covered in soft cotton, it’s back towards me. It was white (well…worn brownish white now) with green clovers printed on them. At the top of it, I saw a halo around a head. It changed hues, gold to champagne to pink. And then the head turned. I saw your face awash, the smile that let your dimples gather pools of liquid light. You seemed ecstatic, as you always did when you saw me. Every hair on your beard seemed to capture the light. Which light was it…the one in your eyes or the one of day? I decided to stop asking myself that.

As I drew near, the house smelled of soup cooking thickly, like something into which were hurriedly put the freshest things. Also of some brew, aromatic and sweet…that would be golden brown and forming words, shapes with it’s steam. I was right. You motioned me to partake of a cup of tea on the table. I sat opposite you on another worn chair, right in front of the door that allowed sunlight in, right where the dog sat lazily curled up on the steps, warmed to his bones, right where the wind found voice through the leaves like some silly ventriloquist, right where I wanted to be. I looked out. No words were spoken, none needed. The golden brew with its steam formed all of it. Steams from two delicate china cups mingled, held hands and drew apart.

The Lalang rods as if on cue, let the sunlight go a little too quickly to embrace the velvety night. The lights, finally freed, shimmering, thirsting rush up homebound. It’s the end of another day. The lights have dimmed.