"There is no rule on how to write. Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly; sometimes it's like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges."
-Ernest Hemingway
-Ernest Hemingway
Amidst all that is happening
August 14, 2011I woke upat 6 am, on a different land - haunted by the crying face of my mother. I could easily remember her hurt, at the funeral. I was just 12 then.
I’ve always had this forgetful mind, but then, this is very clear. The feeling of lost I could not forget. I wanted to fly out to where my mom is, and hug her tight. I could feel her loss now.
As I write this, I couldn’t stop crying. Perhaps, I’m feeling a tiny part of what my mother felt 14 years ago.
How could I forget. The loss of a vey important man to her. My Father.
